Old Flame
by Ardeth Saunders
Summary: An old girlfriend of the Donovan brothers reappears in desperate need of help. She turns to Farron first, but has her sights on Frank.
1. Ennui Principio

**TITLE****:  "Old Flame"**

**AUTHOR****:  Ardeth Saunders [a.k.a., Cruecial or Cruecial411]**

**RATING****:  R [Language, violence, and sexual situations]**

**SYNOPSIS****:  An old girlfriend of the Donovan brothers reappears in desperate need of help.  She turns to Farron first, but has her sights on Frank.**

**GENRE****:  Drama, Suspense, and YES Romance.  **

**DISCLAIMER****:  _UC:  Undercover_ and its cast of characters belong to the writers, creators, NBC, and a dozen others.  NO infringement intended.  All other original characters belong solely to the sick, twisted, and vivid imagination of the author.**

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ENNUI PRINCIPIO 

It was just Ennui's luck to be stuck working in the emergency room over the weekend.  Friday and Saturday nights were the worst time to be stuck in this merciless room of blood, horror, and loss.  The decision on who would be working this particular weekend had fallen upon her floor supervisor.  It was basically a toss up between her and another RN.  Her co-worker had a few more years under her belt, and was a few rungs higher up the ladder.  Not only that, but she was also a prime ass-kisser.  Ennui had, of course, lost the draw.  It was unfair, but there was little she could do about it.  Later, she would thank her floor supervisor for forcing her to work.  She was a strong believer in fate, and she would come to believe that fate, not her floor supervisor, had been more responsible for her working that weekend.  For now, though, she would sulk.  Actually, she didn't have to sulk long.  After a tremendously busy three hours, activity had slowed down quite a bit, and Ennui was able to take a breather.  She stood behind the nurses' station near the entrance to the ER and thumbed casually through a magazine.  She normally tried to find some type of activity that would keep her mind off the stress of the job.  She had barely gotten through half the issue before she heard the ER doc scream out for all personnel.  There had been some type of shooting, and everyone had to be on the ready.  Ennui hated shootings most of all.  She stood on alert to await the victims.

Ennui breathed a sigh of relief when there was only one victim, and he didn't seem to be hurt that badly, however he _would _need surgery to remove a bullet.  She followed closely behind the gurney carrying the handsome young man and agreed to help the surgeon with prep and in OR.  The victim was complaining gruffly, insisting that he wasn't hurt, that he could get up and walk right out.  Obviously in pain and losing blood, he kept moaning and groaning, declaring that he had a job to finish.  _Let me do my job_, he said repeatedly.  One of the other attending physicians said an EMT had forced a painkilling injection on him because he refused to get into the ambulance.  His combative behavior had calmed considerably since then, but he still had enough adrenaline to argue with those trying to help him.  Once the EMT's left the prep room, Ennui and another RN began to cut away at the thick woolen slacks the man wore to get to his wound.  _Thank you God_, she thought as she noticed that the bleeding didn't indicate an arterial wound.  She was no doctor, but to her well-trained eyes, it was simple and clean.  He would recover quickly, probably in a week or so.  The man continued to fight, but the painkiller was doing its job nicely, and his fretting grew weaker.  _Now maybe **I** can do **my** job_, she thought.

*  *  *

"Come on, you don't want to do this," he said.  "Let her go and maybe we can work something out."  

_Instead of complying, the sick fuck whipped out a semi-automatic handgun and aimed it straight at his head.  As the gun went off wildly, sporadically, Donovan went into a flying dive and landed badly on his hip.  He felt the excruciating, but unmistakable pain of a bullet hitting him.  Before he even thought about his own condition, he grabbed his weapon and fired blindly, praying that no bullets would hit the hostage.  Tonight, luck was with him for once.  The bullets speeding out of his gun hit exactly what they were intended to hit, but he didn't see that.  He didn't have time.  He wasn't sure if the hostage made it out alive.  Strangely enough, he grayed out for a few seconds, and the next thing he knew, he was struggling against the EMTs who were desperately trying to wrangle him into an ambulance.  He thought of the hostage.  The best possible scenario, of course, would be that she had walked away unscathed.  However, when he looked up, he noticed a crowd of his fellow agents surrounding the hostage.  A break in the sea of bodies gave him the answer he sought.  He saw the young woman lying in a pool of her own blood.  Although the EMTs were struggling with him, he managed to break away.  Despite his leg wound, he forced his body forward.  He had to see.  He had to know.  He groaned inwardly and had the greatest urge to dig his fingers into his leg wound to maim himself further.  The hostage was dead and her abductor missing.  Donovan peered down at her and noticed that she had been hit at least twice, but only one bullet proved fatal.  There was a small hole in the center of her forehead, no bigger than a dime.  He couldn't see the back of her head, but he was more than certain it probably didn't exist anymore anyway.  The blood seeped unmercifully out of her head.  Her dead eyes seemed to stare straight through him, the look in them almost accusatory.  **Who the hell killed her?  Him?  Me?  **Both he and the abductor had fired shots.  His vision began to gray once again.  **No.  Oh no.**_

****

Donovan jarred himself awake.  For a terrifying moment, he didn't know where he was or what had happened to him.  He tried to move, but a terrific pain seized his leg and put a stop to that idea.  The pain swiftly brought his memory back.  He was in the hospital, in a tiny private room.  He had been trying to convince a man to release the hostage he had held captive for more than two weeks.  He had been shot, but so had the hostage.  She was dead.  _Goddamn it_, he thought as he brought his hands up to cover his eyes briefly.  He didn't know what day it was.  He wanted to leave, but he couldn't seem to get out of bed.  _This is crazy.  This is fucking crazy_.  Defeated [for the moment, anyway], he settled back down on the bed.  What could he do?  _Nothing_.  What did he feel?  _Nothing_.  He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.  Perhaps someone would come and tell him that the last thing he saw before coming to the hospital was a dream.  

He might have gotten five minutes of rest before he heard the soft _swish_ of the door as it opened.  A low groan escaped him.  He was certain it was another nurse or an aid sent to pick and prod on him some more.  He was quite tempted to start yelling and screaming.  Perhaps that would send him/her away.  Of course, it might also have him sent to the psych ward.  Either way, he would be left alone.

As an RN, it wasn't necessary for Ennui to check on the patients so frequently, but something about this fellow had sparked her interest.  He was dark and beautiful.  His short black hair was neatly cut and sloped down his hairline in an irresistible widow's peak.  His eyes were dark brown and piercing; his lips were full but mismatched; and his handsome face held high, prominent cheekbones.  However, the one thing she noticed [and liked] above all else was his hands.  They were large, but didn't seem as if they would be blocky or clumsy.  She loved men with large hands, but often, they were fumbling with them.  He didn't seem to be that type of man at all.  His fingers were long and tapered, tempting her to suck on them.  She shook her head a little.  _What's next?  Are you going to look under his hospital gown to measure his penis_?  When he came in last night, she had checked out his identification to notify his family.  She had discovered that he was an FBI agent named Frank Donovan.  Funny.  He didn't look Irish.  _Would you **stop**_?

Donovan had yet to attempt to open his eyes.  He knew the nurse with him was female, because he could smell the light, flowery scent of her perfume.  It was a welcoming fragrance in the medicinal atmosphere of his room.  However, he wasn't intrigued enough to bother opening his eyes.  "Could you do this later," he croaked through a parched throat.

Ennui jumped at the sudden intrusion of his voice.  She had been staring at him again, wanting to touch those long, long fingers.  "I'm not here to do anything specifically," she said.  _Except maybe molest your fingers_, she thought wickedly.  Stop it.  Stop it now.  Ugh.  "I came by to check on you.  I was with you last night during surgery."

His eyes came open suddenly.  He had been tempted to spit out an indignant response to what she said, but the moment he laid eyes on her, the words died in his throat.  Good God, this nurse was gorgeous.  Her thick, wavy shoulder length hair was a warm shade of chestnut brown and framed her pert heart-shaped face perfectly.  Her skin was creamy and smooth, almost flawless.  He noticed a tiny pockmark just below her left eye, and when he settled his eyes on hers, he stared at her, completely transfixed.  Her eyes were very, very light brown with golden flecks mixed in for good measure.  _Tawny?  Is that what the color is called_?  She had an identification tag clipped to her collar, and he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

"Ennui Principio?  What's that?"

She smiled a little at the confused look on his face, but was impressed at how easily he pronounced both names.  "It's my name; French and Spanish heritage.  How are you feeling today, Mr. Donovan?"

"Confused," he spat as he tore his eyes off hers.  "I had surgery?  My leg?"

She nodded.  "Yes.  Don't worry, there isn't any extensive damage, and you'll be back on the job in less than two weeks.  Get some rest, okay?  I'll check on you again tonight."  She exited his room before he had the chance to say another word.  In fact, she didn't want to linger very long.  She would probably lose her job for sucking on his fingers, especially if he continued to gaze at her with his stormy eyes.

*  *  *

A few days later, Donovan was more than ready to get out of the hospital.  The only thing he would miss would be Ennui's daily visits.  He was beginning to think that she came in to see him even when off duty.  Of course, he didn't mind.  She had the ability to make him feel better just by the sound of her soft laugh.  He had beaten his ego repeatedly over the last few days because of his failure to save the hostage.  He hadn't really said anything to Ennui [whom he had begun to call Enni], but she seemed to comfort him without knowing a thing.  He found that he was growing quite fond of the pretty nurse.  She had a way of making everything _right_ and _normal_.  Although he hadn't asked, she had told him her entire life history, mentioning that she wanted to go to med school when she 'grew up.'  She said she was born and raised in California and couldn't speak French or Spanish outside the simplest words.  The little anecdotes she told him on a daily basis intrigued him, entertained him, and yes, comforted him.  He found himself not wanting to leave, ever.  

Ennui came to Donovan's room the day he was to be discharged.  She wanted to say goodbye before he disappeared from her life altogether.  She had been tempted to give him her phone number, but she wasn't sure if he were married or single.  He had never said.  She pecked on the door with her knuckle before entering the room.  She watched, in amusement, as he gathered up his dozen or so get well gifts from colleagues and friends.  He walked with a slight limp, but refused to use crutches.  He had grudgingly consented to using a cane, but she was certain he would toss that out eventually.  This fellow was quite stubborn and bullheaded.  He turned toward her and looked amazingly handsome in his navy slacks and matching pullover sweater.  He focused his eyes on her beautiful face and wondered if this would be the last time he would see her.  With her gorgeous eyes and 'out there' name, he was sure he wouldn't forget her any time soon.

"So, you're finally out of here," she said with a smile.  "Good luck, Frank, and avoid those stray bullets."  

She approached him and presented her hand for him to shake.  She at least wanted to touch those long fingers before he left her forever.  When he took her hand into his, the moment was intense and quite thrilling.  His hand could have been a lightning rod for the electricity it sent coursing through her body.  _Oh dear Jesus_, she thought.  _This has never happened to me before_.

"Thank you," he said without releasing her hand.  "You kept me sane at an insane time.  You're a wonderful head shrinker," he said with a grin.  

She was blushing all the way to her toes.  His eyes were fixed steadily on her, and there was nowhere to run.  "I think you're exaggerating my role just a tad, but I was only doing my job."  Of course, that was not what she meant at all.

"Were you," he asked as if he didn't exactly believe it.  "I was hoping it was a bit more than that."

"You _were_," she asked, astonished.

He nodded.  "I was.  I would really like to see you again, _outside_ the hospital, of course."

She smiled as she noticed that the handshake had suddenly become more like a couple holding hands.  "I can arrange that."

As it turned out, it was arranged and arranged again.

*  *  *

A wonderful six months passed, and Donovan had literally fallen head over heels in love with Ennui.  After the first few dates, their relationship seemed to heat up all at once.  They began spending as much time together as was humanly possible, and after two months or so, Ennui moved in with him.  He was so deeply in love that he was actually considering popping the question, and he had a nice plan all set up for that.  It would rely on Ennui's schedule and if she could get away.  He had presented his plan to her one night in bed, and she seemed thrilled with the idea of traveling with Donovan to meet his family.  When she mentioned the trip to one of her friends, she had told Ennui that was a sure sign that a man was about to propose.  She shrugged it off on the outside, but inside, the idea thrilled her to the bone.  And as a different Frank Donovan would do years later with a woman he had yet to meet, he spoke endlessly about his sisters, but didn't talk about his brother much at all.  In fact, he had only told Ennui his name, but didn't delve into his relationship with him.

*  *  *

Donovan's younger sisters made it a point to come by Mom's so they could meet the woman their older brother kept bragging about.  Ennui immediately felt embraced by the Donovan clan, and could easily see herself as part of this family.  On the first night they arrived, Ennui was sitting outside under the stars, enjoying the warm, spring night.  She looked up as Donovan joined her.  Although the air didn't have a chill to it, he approached her and sat directly behind her, enveloping her with his arms and settling his hands on top of hers.

"Vigoureux," she whispered.

He smiled a little as she used her pet name for him.  She had given it to him the first time he made love to her.  "Enni, will you marry me," he whispered in her ear.

She smiled a little.  His question was so expected, yet so unexpected at the same time.  "Yes, Vigoureux, I will."

Donovan smiled against her ear and then pressed his lips against it.  He drew away for a few moments to dig out the engagement ring he had bought several weeks ago.  He slipped it onto her finger and enveloped her body again.  He wanted to sit there with her forever.

The only thing that drew his attention away from her was a sudden cry that issued from the direction of the living room.  "Mother," he called, "is something wrong?"

"Of course not," a familiar voice said.  It's just me."

Farron.

Donovan helped Ennui up to her feet.  "It's my brother," he said.  "You have yet to meet him."

Of course, Ennui didn't expect Farron to be Donovan's identical twin.  She was shocked to see a man so similar to her fiancé, yet so different.  Everything about him was the same save for a scar just above his left eyebrow.  Farron fixed his eyes on the beautiful woman standing beside his brother.  She was more gorgeous than any woman he had brought home yet.  Without taking his identical dark brown eyes off her face, he approached her and held out his hand.  Not sure what she should do, she reached out and took his hand into hers, feeling Donovan tense slightly beside her.  Farron brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it gently, never taking his eyes off hers.  His gaze was unsettling, disturbing, but…thrilling.  _What am I thinking_?

Reluctantly, Farron released her hand.  "Frank, who is this exquisite creature?"

Almost instinctively, Donovan tightened his hold on Ennui's waist.  He didn't like the way Farron was looking at her.  "Farron," he said stiffly, "this is my fiancé, Enni Principio."

Farron nodded and bit his bottom lip.  "Fiancé?  I suppose congratulations are in order.  Welcome to the family."  If his brother hadn't been holding her so tightly, he would have embraced her.

"T-Thank you," she said.  She had a hard time forming the words, but eventually, she spat them out.  "It's nice to meet you."

He smiled curtly and nodded again.  "Likewise.  Excuse me, but I would like to catch up with my sisters."

Ennui caught herself watching him make his exit.  _Dear God.  Help me_.

That night, long after Donovan was asleep, Ennui lay in bed staring up at the ceiling.  Every now and then, she would gaze down at the lovely ring Donovan had slipped on her finger earlier tonight.  She loved Donovan, there was no mistaking that, but she found herself a bit hot and bothered.  That evening, she and Donovan had sat with Farron and the rest of the family catching up and getting acquainted.  Farron seemed to have everything that Donovan was missing.  He was gentler, more romantic, and very blatantly sexy.  In fact, he literally exuded sex.  Although they were physically identical, Farron seemed to be the exact emotional opposite of her fiancée.  Suddenly, she wanted to leave this place, wanted to go home.  God help her, but she didn't trust herself.  Her fiancée's brother had literally stripped her naked with his eyes.

*  *  *

Two days later, Donovan awakened in an empty house.  He went in search of his mother, sisters, and fiancé, but didn't find them anywhere.  He glanced up at the refrigerator and saw that his mother had left him a note about having gone shopping with 'the girls.'  He assumed Ennui was one of the girls, so he set about making himself a quick breakfast sandwich.  The day had dawned clear and cool.  He thought it might be nice to go outside and finish his breakfast on the back porch.  Perhaps it would also be a good day to take Ennui back to Chicago.  He simply did not trust his brother around her.  Donovan sat down on the back steps of the porch and finished off his sandwich.  He suddenly focused his eyes on the clubhouse sitting out in the backyard.  He didn't know why it drew his interest.  His parents had built it for him and his siblings when they were children.  It was fairly good sized, and when they were children, he and Farron used to camp out in it at night.  He stood to go back into the house when a noise interrupted him.  It sounded like a hollow bumping noise and seemed to be coming from the clubhouse.  What the hell?  Ever cautious 24/7, Donovan slowly approached the clubhouse.  It was probably nothing more than a squirrel trapped inside.  As he drew nearer, he heard a sound that nearly stopped his heart.  It was a soft moan, followed by a deeper groan.  He had been with Ennui long enough to recognize every sound she emitted when she was made love to.  _No_, he thought, _it can't be_.  Needing to prove it to himself and to his heart, he grasped the handle and swung the door open.  His brother, his fucking bastard twin, had his fiancé backed up against the wall, furiously grinding his body into hers.  He watched in horror as Ennui's arm slid around Farron's back.  At that moment, the sunlight hit the diamond in the engagement ring.  The blinding refraction of light cut into his eyes, shining on him, as his hopes and dreams for the future were tossed carelessly away as if they were trash.  Ennui saw him first, and she tried to speak, tried to stop Farron, but it was too late.  Donovan left immediately, never to return to her, never to look back again.


	2. Womanizing Past Exposed

WOMANIZING PAST EXPOSED

"Ennui," Farron spat.  "What the hell are you doing here?"

*  *  *

How long had it been since he saw her last?  He had been an unofficial member of the Huete family.  Mateo had broken away from the cluster to return home for a few days to be Farron again.  It was the only time he felt sane.  Of course, he hadn't expected to find Frank at home, with his new fiancé no less.  He had been taken by Ennui's beauty right off, and he hadn't forgotten the little game he used to play with Frank once his brother had begun dating.  Immediately, he noticed how Frank had tensed when he reached out to take Ennui's hand.  He tried to resist the temptation to seduce Enni, but it was clear to him that she wanted him.  Farron realized that he should have grown out of his juvenile game of stealing away Frank's women, but he hadn't.  All it had taken was a few moments here and there when he was alone with Enni.  It was hard, of course, because Frank understood Farron's proclivity toward betrayal, and he didn't leave Enni alone very often.  When he did, Farron found himself playing to her weaknesses.  Deep down inside, he hated himself for that, but he couldn't help it.  He enjoyed a challenge and equally enjoyed drawing women away from his brother.  

The day before Farron took Enni to the clubhouse, they were alone together in the living room.  She had sat on one side of the room and he on the other.  He had forgotten exactly where Frank was that day, but somehow, the two had wound up sans Frank.  Farron played it cool and didn't say much, but he noticed that Enni would glance at him when she thought he wasn't looking.  She was definitely intrigued by him; he could see that in her eyes.  The 'good' part of his brain told him to back away, to leave it alone and to allow Frank to marry her.  Yet, the 'bad' part of him [which seemed to always win] pushed him onward and upward.  Farron left his spot and casually strolled near her.  His mother kept a bookshelf very close to where Enni had seated herself, so he decided to look for a book.  If her eyes followed him, he would move in.  If they did not, he would move back.  Of course, her eyes followed him, exactly as he expected.  It was enough for him to proceed.  

Casually, he stood in front of the bookshelf and pretended to search for a volume.  He wasn't a bit more interested in reading than he was priesthood, but it gave him an excuse to stand near her.  She couldn't see the smile that framed his lips as she moved down the length of the couch and sat at the end farthest from him.  Oh yes.  It was more than clear that his presence disturbed her.  He could use that to his advantage, oh yes he could.  He grabbed a book and stepped back from the shelf.  Accidentally on purpose, he sat on the couch at the opposite end.  She was quite tempted to get up and leave the room, but she didn't.  It was her biggest mistake.  If she had left as she wanted, the scene in the clubhouse would have never happened.  Farron turned his body toward hers as if he was simply stretching out to 'read' his book.  His foot bumped her leg [on purpose, of course] and she jumped as if she had been shocked.  She _did_ get up at that point, but she really didn't get that far.  He grabbed her hand as she passed him, drew her body down, and lifted his up.  He kissed her tenderly, but with immense passion.  She tried to break away, but the moment his tongue touched hers, she gave up entirely.  There was no use fighting.  The only thing that kept her from fucking him then and there was the fact that they could be caught.  Farron noticed that when she pulled away, it was done with great reluctance.  He completely devoured her with his eyes and made it no secret that he wanted her.  She managed to get up enough nerve to leave him, but he knew she wouldn't leave for long, and he was right.

Very early the next morning, Ennui left her fiancé in bed.  She was invited on a shopping trip with Donovan's sisters and mother.  She begged off, stating that she had a tremendous headache and didn't feel well.  Her excuse was only a little lie.  She felt rotten, of course, but it had nothing to do with physical sickness.  The moment Farron kissed her, she could have easily forgotten Donovan existed at all, and that thought horrified her.  She _loved_ him, had agreed to marry him.  Yet, she had kissed his brother and would do it again without provocation.  She wasn't stupid, she knew Farron's only interest in her was her body, but she didn't care.  She wanted him.  Why lie?  She found herself drifting out to the back porch.  It was where Donovan had proposed, and she thought that by visiting that location, she would feel better, feel more secure in her love for him.  Again, she had made a huge mistake.  Farron was outside, seemingly awaiting her.  She moved past him yet again, and again, he grabbed her hand.  Without an ounce of shame, he dragged her down onto his lap and kissed her.  She pulled away, begging him to stop, begging him to let her go, but he would not.  He kissed her again, and her fight died.  Once having begged him to stop, she now begged him to fuck her, and of course, he would oblige that request without question.  They could not go inside the house because Donovan was still asleep.  His eyes fell on the clubhouse.  Perfect.        

The two of them went into the dark little building and literally ripped each other out of their clothing.  He backed her body against the sturdiest wall, and within moments, he was inside her.  The game of betrayal he played so well, the game he had played so excellently all his life, had taken on a new height.  It drove him forward, causing him to literally beat his body into hers from the sheer thrill of it.  He had actually pulled off something he had never pulled off before.  He had stolen dozens of Frank's girlfriends, but never had he managed to draw away a fiancée, a woman he had intended to marry.  It was that thought which drove him relentlessly.  As was his standard, he didn't stop and give in to his release after she met hers.  Instead, he held back and went on and on, pounding into her mercilessly.  The only thing that stopped him was the slice of sunlight entering the room as the door came open.  Enni gasped audibly, not from pleasure, but pain.

Farron didn't immediately turn around.  Inherently, he knew Frank had found them.  Enni whispered 'vigoureux' just before the door slammed closed again.  Even that didn't stop him.  He pressed forward harder and faster than before and didn't let up until he experienced a climax so intense that he thought he might die right then and there.  Then and only then did he feel the first tinges of remorse.  Although Enni hadn't exactly tried to shove him off her, she began to cry and whispered 'what have I done' over and over.  All the while, her arms were wrapped around Farron's body tightly.  Farron hung his head just a bit, and wondered what kept forcing him to hurt his brother so badly.

Realizing what she had done, what she had lost, Enni broke away from Farron, shoving him back with force.  Clumsily, she began searching out her tattered clothing, trying to get dressed in the dark.  Farron tried to stop her, but she was a woman on a mission.  She tore out of the clubhouse, dressed just enough to cover herself, and ran toward the house.  Donovan had completely left.  He hadn't bothered packing or anything.  He simply hopped into his car and sped away.  Oh God, oh God, oh God.  She turned around as she heard Farron entering the house.  She went to him and slapped him, trying her best to claw out his eyes.  However, he took hold of her arms and kissed her.  Instead of backing away from the damage he had caused, he pressed forward again, lowering her to the floor.  Before she knew what was happening, she was stripped from the waist down, and Farron's tongue was inside her, pleasuring her as immensely as the male part of him had just done moments before.

Ennui didn't want to hang around the Donovan family home after that.  She didn't want to face Donovan's family and explain the sudden absence of her fiancé.  Although a bit of a bastard, Farron understood her dilemma.  Years earlier, he had learned to copy his brother's handwriting, and he sat down and wrote his mother a note stating that Frank had had to get back home due to an emergency.  _Voila_, awkward problem solved.  Not exactly sure how long he wanted to have Enni around, Farron asked her to come with him back to South America.  The time away would help her, he reasoned, and perhaps she could then return to Frank.  Then again, he knew his brother well, and realized that he would probably never see Enni again.  Still, he managed to persuade her to come along with him. 

Ennui was stunned to learn of Farron's double life, but at first, she enjoyed the excitement and the glitz.  Even though Farron was a top cocaine trafficker, he never touched the stuff.  The only drug that held him captive was sex, and he could never wean himself away from that.  However, it didn't stop Ennui from partaking of the white powder on occasion.  It seemed to lift her spirits, to help her forget what she had done to the man she loved, to the man she still loved.  It didn't take long for her to become a full-blown addict.  At that point, Farron's infatuation began to fade.  He loved women, he loved _all kinds_ of women, but he couldn't tolerate those addled by a substance.  Not only that, but he had also started to separate a bit from the Huete gang.  They were swiftly turning away from drugs and moving toward a different type of trade.  The leader, Alca Huete, had begun to collect women to use for prostitution.  Once dealing solely in cocaine, he now dealt in flesh.  Farron wanted no part of that.  He had asked Ennui to break away from the life, to leave before she was destroyed or seduced into the ring.  However, she was so far gone in her addiction that she completely refused.  On the day he was slated to return to Miami, he had caught her in bed with _el jefe_.  He had paid for her services with cocaine.

*  *  *

Farron stood at his door, remembering his past, remembering the betrayal [yet again and again].  He had fixed his eyes on Ennui's, not believing what he saw before him.  The last time he had had contact with her, she was in bed with Alca Huete, her body so riddled by cocaine, that she looked almost…skeletal.  Now, she stood before him looking only a few years older, but much healthier.  How in the world had she found him?  Why had she sought him out after all this time?  He was so stunned that he honestly didn't know what to do.  

"Tibio," she whispered, using _his_ pet name.  "Would you please let me come in?  I need to speak to you."

Not sure what he should do, he simply stood back and allowed her access to his apartment.  He closed the door behind her and when he turned around, he noticed that she had seated herself on his modest couch.  He didn't understand how so many ghosts from his past could find him, could come back to haunt him.  Was it some kind of moral test?  He was trying to straighten out his life, for God's sake, and he was faced once again with another temptation.  Yet, Ennui wasn't quite a temptation anymore, was she?  Frank hadn't given her another thought [or so he assumed] in a few years.  He was married now and had a beautiful baby girl.  Farron wondered for a moment why she had come to him and not to Frank.  Did she know Frank had married?  Did she care?

A few years ago, he had literally seduced her to betray her fiancé, herself, and her sanity.  At that moment, Farron was completely terrified of approaching her.  He didn't know what to make of her.  "How did you find me?  No one knows I'm here, including my former _hermanos_ in Florida and Colombia.  The Ortiz gang is nonexistent, and I haven't spoken to Huete in years.  How did you do it, Enni?  _How_?"

She closed her eyes and sighed deeply.  How long had it been since she had heard someone calling her 'Enni?'  She had been Alca Huete's _la puta primera_ [top whore] for so long, he and his men had dubbed her 'Primera.'  She was certain that they didn't know her real name, and if they did, they probably didn't care.  Ennui Principio had died, only to be resurrected just a few short months ago.  "One of Alca's men was with the Ortiz outfit before it was broken up by the _federales_, and he returned to him.  He knew Mateo, knew that he had escaped.  I came to Chicago because it's where I met Frank, and I thought that if you had left, you would be here near your brother."

Farron gawped at her.  "Frank?  You've contacted Frank," he spat.  

He didn't believe that, didn't believe she had been bold enough to approach Frank, not after what had happened before she fell off the face of the earth.  She was still so very breathtakingly beautiful.  He wondered how she could be so strung out for so long and still look so wonderful.  However, he did see hardness in her eyes, bitterness.  She looked the same, but probably wasn't the same inside at all.

She shook her head.  "No, not exactly.  I wrote him a very long letter and apologized for what I, for we, did to him.  I would like his help as well, and I want to apologize face-to-face."

The look in her hardened, embittered eyes told a different story.  She didn't want to do anything 'face-to-face' with Frank that didn't involve elbowing her way back into his life.  Apparently, she had done her homework on him, but had failed miserably with Frank.  "Enni, you do realize he's married now?  You do know he and his wife have a daughter?  You knew this, didn't you?  You must have done your homework on Frank as well, right?  Otherwise, you wouldn't have gotten his address."

Something in her eyes changed, but she was trying to keep it from showing.  "I sent the letter to him at the regional FBI office, and I'm sure he received it.  But I didn't know Frank had married or that he has a child now."

He smiled a little.  "I didn't think so.  What do you want from me, Enni?  If you came for Frank, I can't give him to you.  He's _very_ much in love with his wife, and I don't think he would bend, even for you."

"Would you please sit down, Tibio?  I want to tell you, but I can't talk to you like this."

He didn't want to approach her, didn't want to sit anywhere near her, but his body seemed to move on its own volition.  He sat down but didn't dare sit any closer than was necessary.  "What is it?"

"When you left the fold," she began, "Alca had started a prostitution ring.  He eased out of the drug trade little by little.  The competition from other families was amazing, especially the gang that you came to run with.  I was the oldest one there.  They kidnapped _children_, Farron, children no older than fourteen.  They _broke _them in before putting them out on the streets.  Alca got them hooked on cocaine, and the girls would sell their souls for a hit…_me_ included.  I wanted to leave; I couldn't live like that anymore.  Look at me, Tibio; I was a registered nurse about to embark on med school.  You were there.  How long did it take for me to become strung out?  You led me there, helped me become the addict that I am.  A few months ago, I ran.  I couldn't sell myself for cocaine, I couldn't become some sex slave to those men, and that's what I was.  I came back to the states and endured weeks of withdrawal.  I stayed with battered women to dry out, and I did it.  When I heard you left the life, I thought I could, but I need your help to do it.  Alca's men are looking for me, and if they find me, I'll die.  I've heard a rumor on the streets of Chicago that Huete has come here to start a ring in the US.  He is close to me, and I'm terrified."

"That, Enni," he said, "is a matter for the authorities.  I'm not one of them.  In fact, I'm an anti-authority.  I cannot help you."

"You cold bastard," she spat in anger.  "This is _your _fault.  If you had left me alone, if you hadn't touched me, _I _would be Frank's wife, _I_ would be the mother of his child."

"I had a role in it, I admit it without question, but you made your own choices.  I had nothing to do with that.  How committed to Frank _were_ you?  It couldn't have been that much, because you fucked me, Enni.  You know, I tried the same shit on Frank's wife, and you know what happened?  She denied me and Frank nearly killed me.  What does that tell you?"

"Goody for her," she spat sarcastically.  "You led me into the life, Tibio, and I need your help escaping it.  You owe me."

*  *  *

Loralei had just put Rachel down in her crib, and it was a good thing.  The moment Rachel's little head hit the pillow, Loralei's stomach lurched sickly, and she had just enough time to rush into the bathroom and once again bow before the porcelain temple to pray to the _Tidy Bowl Man_.  Damn it.  Since when did she get morning sickness at night?  Shit.  It didn't take long for its hold to loosen.  Still, she felt like crap and was upset on top of that.  Donovan had called earlier to give her details [scant as they were] on why he had had to leave in such a rush.  She had tried to get a word in, but his fucking cell phone crackled and then the connection died.  At the rate she was going, he might find out about her pregnancy by the time she started to show.  She washed her face at the bathroom sink and barely had time to dry her face.  The doorbell rang suddenly, and Loralei was forced to bolt downstairs [dizzy and pukey] to answer the damn door before it awakened Rachel.  Who the hell would be ringing her doorbell this late?  She peeked into the peephole and swung open the door.

"Kara," Loralei said, stunned.  "I thought you weren't in town?"

She nodded sedately.  "I'm sorry, that was a lie.  I wasn't ready to face Farron.  May I come in?"

Loralei stepped back from the door and allowed Kara to enter the house.  The two women walked over to the couch and sat down.  Loralei was literally dying to know what had possessed her to leave Farron high and dry.  However, she would not pry.

"I know I don't deserve it, and I'll understand if you refuse, but I was hoping you would tell me where I can find Farron?  I'd like to speak to him, to explain what happened."

_What happened?  What happened?  Tell me tell me tell me_.  "I'm sure Farron would love to see you.  He's been quite upset."

She nodded.  "I can't blame him.  I've…never done anything like that before, and I wasn't sure what to do.  I called my brother to help me sort it out, and when Farron showed up on my doorstep, I couldn't see him."  She sighed heavily.  "I'm sorry.  Forgive me for rambling."

_Ramble away, honey.  In fact, tell me tell me tell me_.  "No, that's all right.  Farron lives in the city, and I'll get you his address.  As I said, he will be thrilled to see you, I'm sure."

When Loralei walked Kara to the door twenty minutes later, the downstairs extension began to ring.  What was it about late nights that made people want to reach out and touch someone?  She felt as if she needed to puke again, but there was no time.  She grabbed the phone and plopped down on the couch.  "Hello.  Grand Central.  Would you like to purchase a ticket?"

"Loralei?  Baby, are you okay?"

Donovan.  "Yes, I'm fine.  It's just been busy here in the last hour.  I sent Farron's love interest to the city, and I feel all mushy inside.  What are you doing up so late?"

"Just wanted to tell you I love you before I go to sleep," he said softly.

She smiled a little.  "I love you, too.  Frank, when you get home, can you try to spend at least five minutes with me?"

"Only five," he asked with a chuckle.  "Come on, my love, you can have me all night."  In the background, she heard an indignant groan and a whispered 'ew ew ew ew.'  "What is it," he asked, "Is it something we can't discuss right now?"

"We could, I suppose, but I'd rather not do it on the phone.  As soon as you get back to Chicago, come home.  I don't care what time it is or what you have to do when you back to the Nest.  Okay?"

"Sure, I can do that.  Are you okay?"

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment.  "Yeah," she said after a long moment, "I'm just yucky and tired, that's all."  _Take the hint_, she thought.  _Take it and run with it.  You knew the first time, and you should know now._

"No more margaritas for you," he said with another chuckle.  "I love you, LD.  Good night."

_He didn't take it.  Ahhhhhhhhhh!  _"Me too, FD.  Come home soon."  When she disconnected the call, she stared down at the mute phone.  "Oh, Frank?  I'm pregnant."


	3. Trouble In Paradise

NOTE:  Just wanted to answer a question for Nicky.  Ennui's last name does indeed mean something in Spanish.  If I recall, 'el principio' means 'starter.'  By the way, your reviews are hilarious!  

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TROUBLE IN PARADISE

Farron stood in the kitchen staring at the cupboard for an indeterminate amount of time.  He wasn't quite sure why he had gone in there, but he thought it might be due to a need to find a good, stiff drink.  As much as his twin, he enjoyed an occasional bourbon here and there, but right now, he preferred scotch.  At trying times such as this, scotch seemed to hit the spot better.  He opened the cabinet where he stashed his booze and selected his favorite brand.  Before he gave up the life of a trafficker, he would spend hundreds of dollars on a single bottle of scotch.  Most of his money was gone, seized by the _federales_ after they took down Ortiz.  However, he had a little stashed here and there, and every so often, he splurged on the good stuff.  He had worked on his faults, but he was far from perfect.  Besides, there was no way he could live a halfway decent life with his current job.  He banged the bottle down on the counter and unscrewed the cap.  He nearly grabbed a glass while he was at, but changed his mind.  He drank directly from the bottle, pouring the caramel colored liquid down his throat.  Farron grimaced at the harsh invasion of the scotch as it slid down, immediately warming him.  Why was he in such a state?  Never before had Enni done this to him, even after they betrayed Frank.  When he cut ties with her back in Colombia, he never gave her a second thought, and neither had Frank.  Perhaps even Frank knew the pairing was destined to fail.  Otherwise, he would have searched Enni out, gone after, and probably married her.  Frank would have also come after him, the same as he had done when he had stupidly attacked his wife.  Sighing heavily, he turned up the bottle and took another deep pull from it.

Ennui hadn't made one move since Farron got up and went toward his tiny kitchen.  She watched solemnly as he drank his scotch as if it were water.  Inwardly, she smiled a little.  Despite leaving the life, he really hadn't changed that much.  He still loved his aged scotch.  She shifted her position on the couch so that her arm was resting on the back of it.  She kept her tawny eyes focused on him and wondered what his next move would be.  She reasoned that he must _want_ to help her because he had yet to throw her out on her ass.  On top of that, her interest really wasn't in Farron at all.  She had never loved him, never wanted anything from him that didn't involve sex.  Frank was the one she had loved, the one she would _always_ love.  Even in the hideous depths of cocaine withdrawal, her only thought had been of Frank.  It mattered little to her that he was married and a father.  Marriages and relationships could easily be broken up.  Her departure from Frank had proven that.  All it would take was Farron bringing her to his attention.  Once he saw her, he would want her again.  It was as simple as that.

"I see you still enjoy your scotch, Tibio," she said with a soft smile.

He took another long pull from the bottle.  Jesus.  He was starting to get a little buzz going.  "Don't call me that anymore, please.  What we had, which was sleazy at best, is over."

Of course, for the moment, she wasn't going to accept that, not yet anyway.  She came off the couch and approached him slowly.  By that time, the scotch had begun working on his head a little.  He was quite foggy, and wasn't sure what she was doing until he felt her hand fall on his shoulder.  His reflexes were slow.  He wanted to shrug her off him, but he couldn't.  By the time his brain caught up with his arm, the signal became haywire and fucked up.  She was standing against him now, running her hand up and down the length of his arm.  In the back of his mind, he saw Kara, reached for that image, but it wasn't there.  All he had was this pitiful excuse for a woman, a woman who had sold her body for many years to stuff white powder up her nose.  Yet, his brain kept playing tricks on him.  The soft touch of her hand, and the pressure of her body was a bit mind numbing, more numbing than the scotch.  Without thinking, he took another drink from the bottle.

"I missed you, Tibio," she whispered, her voice falling into his ear.  "I missed everything about you.  Every man I had, I compared him to you."

Did he believe that?  Did he honestly believe that?  Of course he did.  The scotch had convinced him that this cocaine whore of Alca Huete's was Kara.  She was the one who got away.  Oh yes.  It was true.  The more he drank, the truer it was.  He felt a pair of soft and incredibly warm hands moving his hair to the side.  A moment later, a set of full lips began to dance along the side of his throat.  Another moment later, firm teeth and a wet tongue teased his earlobe.  His heart kept pushing him to deny her.  This wasn't right.  She wasn't who he wanted.  Yet, the scotch had played with his mind so much that he didn't know what his name was anymore.  _Who am I right now?  Am I Farron or Mateo?_  She pulled back just a bit to run her hand through the back of hair, cupping the back of his head.  He turned toward her, perhaps to tell her to leave.  Instead, he gave in to the urge, gave in to the scotch haze.  Even though the bedroom was only a few feet away, there seemed to be no time to walk there.  Did he want the couch?  No.  Too soft.  Ah.  She made the decision for him as she lifted her body easily onto the kitchen counter.

*  *  *

Kara had gotten the address for Farron's apartment last night, but she hadn't wanted to visit him then, hadn't wanted to drop in so late.  She had no idea he would have welcomed her with open arms, perhaps she would have thwarted Ennui's plan.  However, her hesitancy kept her away.  She had no idea if Farron would even be home this early in the morning, but she had decided to take her chances.  She felt horrible for what she had done to him.  No one had ever made her feel the way Farron did.  She didn't know the man, barely knew his name, but he had touched her somehow [and not just physically].  She wanted to explain why she had run away as if she were a scared child.  Taking a deep breath, she entered the apartment building and took the stairs up to his apartment.  She could have taken the elevator, but she needed a little time to get her nerve up.  Would he understand why she ran?  Would he care?  She wasn't naïve [not exactly].  She knew what kind of man Farron was, and that was partially her motivation for leaving him, but there was something else, something she deemed silly and embarrassing.  She sighed.  She would have to have the courage to spit it out to him and explain.  They had simply come together too soon, and she wanted to take things a bit slowly, wanted to get to know him.  

Before she knew it, she was standing in front of his door.  She glanced down at the piece of paper Loralei had given her to ensure that she had gone to the right door.  She took a deep breath and reached out.  The first time she knocked, it was a soft peck, hardly loud enough to rouse him if he were in bed.  She shivered a little as she thought of him in bed.  _I can't do this, nope, I can't_.  Steeling herself, she reached out again, this time knocking hard enough to hurt her knuckle a little.  She shook her head incredulously as she noticed the doorbell for the first time.  Kara felt an idiotic smile touching her lips as she reached out to hit the button.  From inside, she heard the pleasant _ching chong_ ringing through the apartment.  He would be sure to hear this.  Moments later, she heard movement from inside.  She took in another deep breath but held it.

The door came open inch by inch as if the Gods had decided to torture her.  After an eternity passed, the door came open fully, and the sight of Farron greeted her.  He was wrapped in a light colored silk robe and completely stunned to see her.  She saw the expression in his eyes and couldn't decide if he were happy or angered.  In fact, he was a little bit of both, but he was also horrified.  Enni was still in the apartment, in his bed, with not a stitch of clothing on her body.  How many times had he fucked her last night?  How many times had he hated himself afterwards?  Dear God.  Why had Kara come to him now?  Why couldn't she have come before Enni?  He hoped he could divert her attention, get rid of Enni, and then have her return later.  If she saw the other woman, she would leave and likely never come back.  He couldn't blame her.  The longer he stood gazing at her, the more he hated himself.  

"Can I see you," Kara asked softly, hopefully.  "I want to apologize and explain."

Before Farron could utter one single word, his bedroom door came open and Enni sauntered out into the living room.  Completely immodest, she strolled out as naked as the day she was born.  She had heard the doorbell as well, and she must have heard the soft voice of a female.  Farron's suspicions were right.  She _had_ heard, she _had _come out on purpose.  She couldn't allow another woman to ruin her plans.  The moment Kara laid her eyes on Enni, she gasped aloud.  Farron had proven himself to be the exact type of man she had thought.  He had taken her to bed, had taken her virginity for God's sake, but here he was with another woman two days later who looked like a crack whore.  In that moment when Farron's eyes met Kara's, he suddenly understood how Frank felt when he saw him and Enni together.  Kara said nothing to him, didn't utter a single syllable.  Instead, she turned away and left.  

Farron could not stand still.  He went after Kara and took hold of her arm.  "Please wait," he said.  "You don't understand."

Kara jerked her arm out of his hand.  "I don't?  I wasn't born yesterday, you bastard.  I know what I saw.  I know what kind of man you are, and I don't want to be with a man like that, like _you_."

"Kara, she-"

"She means nothing to you," she spat bitterly, finishing the sentence that was about to tumble out of his mouth.  "That terrifies me, because I almost became entrapped, I almost became the person who means nothing to you."

Kara turned on her heel and ran down the stairs.  He was tempted to go after her, but his feet couldn't move.  Everything she said, every word was the truth.  He didn't deserve her, didn't deserve a woman like that.  What he deserved was awaiting him in his apartment.  He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes tightly.  He wanted to strangle Enni.  However, he couldn't totally lay blame on her, either.  _It takes two to tango_, he thought as he turned toward his apartment.  Enni was no longer in the living room; she had ducked back into the bedroom.  Before she totally disappeared, Farron could have sworn he heard her laughing in Kara's wake.

*  *  *

Donovan had wanted to go home straight from the airport as he had promised Loralei, but he was stuck riding back with the rest of the team.  He didn't intend to dawdle around the office, because he was concerned about his wife.  She didn't make requests like she had unless something was going on.  Oddly enough, he felt as if Alex had some inkling of what the issue was.  When the group piled into the waiting SUV, she asked if he would go straight home from the Nest.  When he said he would, she smiled a tad knowingly, but wouldn't explain when he asked her.  He didn't mind that Loralei had found a friend in Alex, but he did mind the scheming and the secrecy.  However, everyone needed a confidante, a person with whom one _could_ share secrets.  Yet, he wondered what was big enough for Loralei to ask him to return home immediately that could be shared with Alex?  Perhaps if he weren't so very exhausted, mentally and physically, he would have known in an instant.  

The team had barely gotten into the Nest before Donovan grabbed his car keys and headed for the door.  Before he got totally out of earshot, Monica's voice called him back.  He had received a letter forwarded from the central office.  Rolling his eyes and sighing heavily [_distractions_], he grabbed the letter and had nearly tossed it into his inbox, but something stopped him.  The name on the return address was one he hadn't seen or spoken in a few years.  She had even used the shortened name he had given her when they first met.  _Enni Principio_.  His first instinct was to rip the envelope up and toss the pieces in the incinerator down in the basement.  Enni was part of his past, completely put away, completely forgotten.  She was nothing more to him than any other woman he had been with before Loralei.  Morbid curiosity had always been Donovan's downfall, and today it ruled him completely.  He had no desire to speak to her, but he was curious to see why she had contacted him after all this time.  He took the envelope and started toward his office.

"Boss," Alex's voice called, "aren't you forgetting something?"

Donovan turned to glance at Alex.  Ah, the nosiness of two girlfriends.  "No, I haven't."

"Maybe you should go home, Boss," Alex pressed.  "Whatever is in that letter can wait until tomorrow."

What was this?  Alex and Loralei were simply too damn close.  Alex protected Loralei as if she were her younger sister.  "Thanks, Mom," he said sarcastically, "but I'll be out of here in fifteen.  If she calls, send it directly to my office."

Donovan took the stairs two at a time.  He entered the office and closed the door behind him.  Before tearing the envelope open, he stared at it, _through_ it until he thought he might pass out from the eyestrain.  He sat behind his desk and held the envelope in his hands, twirling it.  His choice should have been simple enough.  How hard would it have been to rid himself of yet another burden from his past?  It was so easy to rip an envelope.  After all, it was only paper, it wasn't steel.  It was relatively easy to obliterate, but he couldn't do it.  With any other mail, he would have taken his letter opener to save the envelope, but today, he didn't care.  He slipped his thumb underneath the corner of the envelope and ripped it open.  There was one single sheet of paper inside with Enni's neat script.  He shook his head as he saw the salutation:  _Dearest Vigoureux_.  How stupid, how utterly fucking stupid.  She had some nerve about her, yes she did.  He gazed down at the words, not completely interested in what she had to say at all, but he found himself reading the damn thing in spite of himself.

_Dearest Vigoureux_, she had written, _How many years has it been since you heard that?  Since you heard my voice whispering it to you?  Our relationship went so wrong so fast, and I never had the chance to apologize for what your brother and I did to you.  I have thought about you every day.  In fact, I still have the ring you gave me.  I honestly do not deserve a second chance to be with you, but if you could ever find it in your heart to forgive me, that would be enough to last a lifetime.  I am back in Chicago and I will leave my number at the end of this letter.  Please call me.  I want to hear your voice; I want to beg you for another chance.  With love, Enni._

A bitter chuckle escaped the depths of his throat.  He thought she had nerve writing him, but she had a steely disposition to actually ask him for another chance.  Was she crazy?  Was she clueless?  He had no desire to see her, no desire to set eyes on her ever again.  However, if he ever did see her by some obscene twist of fate, he would not hesitate to tell her that the only 'good' thing she had done for him was to show her true colors.  If she hadn't done that, he might not have found Loralei, and he couldn't imagine life without her.  Loralei was his true love; she completely loved him with her heart and soul.  What he had with Enni was nothing more than an infatuation brought on by her comforting him at his lowest point.  What he had with Loralei was unbreakable, solid.  What he had with his wife could not even be described by mere words.  

"Stupid, stupid bitch," Donovan growled.

He had set about plans of destroying the letter, but before he could carry it out, he heard Cody calling him down as yet another priority case filtered from central.  _Goddamn_, he thought.  He should have left when he had the chance.  He came downstairs and waited patiently for the information to download.  He couldn't believe the rotten luck.  For weeks, they would have complete dry spells only to be followed by several cases in a few days.  Monica began skimming the information as it filtered to her system.

"Wow, Boss, this one is a doozy.  I hope Alex likes hot pants and spiked heels," Cody said.  He passed a sheaf of paper over to Donovan.  "Your specs, _el capitan_."

"A Colombian prostitution ring," Donovan spat incredulously.

Jake's ears perked up at the mention of 'Colombian.'  "Oh Jesus," he moaned, "not more damn Colombians.  If I never see another Colombian as long as I live, I'll be a happy guy."

"Wait wait wait," Monica said.  "What I'm seeing is an offshoot of a ring that has started here in our humble city.  It seems as if they're kidnapping young girls, hooking them on drugs, and then pushing them into the streets, probably using them for their own games among the _familia_."

"Who is behind it?  I'm not finding it in this documentation," Donovan asked as he thumbed through his stack of paper.

"Oh, what a naughty boy," Cody said.  "Alca Huete.  He's a nice drug trafficking fellow."  

Behind them, Jake groaned again.  "Probably Farron's buddies," he mumbled incoherently.  Of course, Alex heard him.

"Cody-"

Before Donovan could say the words, he nodded.  "I know, I know.  Dig up everything I can find on Alca Huete.  I think I'm actually starting to figure you out."

He nodded his head absently and smiled a little.  "I think you still have a lot to learn," he shot back.  "I'll be right back."

Donovan shot upstairs again.  He grabbed the phone and dialed his home number.  He would apologize profusely to his wife, but there was no way he could get home as quickly as he wanted.  She answered on the third ring, sounding sleepy and disoriented.  "LD?"  She yawned over the phone and he held it away from his ear for a second.  "Are you okay?"

"Mmm hmm," she said.  "I was sleeping.  I suppose you're back in town?"

"Yes, but I can't come home right now.  I'm sorry, I hate breaking a promise I made to you, but I'm trapped."

She sighed over the phone, but it wasn't an angered sound.  "That's okay, I understand."

He closed his eyes for a brief moment.  She did.  She did, and it seemed to kill him a little.  "No, baby, it's not okay.  Regardless of what happens with this new case, I _am _coming home this afternoon, even if I have to leave everything behind."

"I have an idea," she said suddenly.  "Meet me at that little Chinese place where we had our first date.  Do you remember that place?"

He smiled a little.  "How would I ever forget?  Name a time and I'm there."

"Six?"

"Six it is."

"If you're not there, I'll find you and drag you there," she said.

He laughed.  "I know you will, but believe me, that won't be necessary."

"Love you, baby, 'bye," she spat suddenly before hanging up.

He hung up the phone and stared down at it for a few moments.  What the hell?  Of course, if he had been at home, he would have seen Loralei bolting away to the bathroom.

Donovan picked up the envelope and its contents.  He completely destroyed them both, ripping them to tiny shreds and then ripping them again.  He tossed it into the wastebasket with the other trash.  _Trash.  That's what it is, that's what she is_.


	4. Here Comes Trouble

HERE COMES TROUBLE

Donovan watched the clock carefully as Cody and Monica worked their magic.  He would move heaven and earth to be out by six.  He intended to meet his wife if he had to say 'fuck it,' and just walk out.  He was ecstatic to learn that the case would center in Chicago.  At least he wouldn't have to leave home again.  The name Alca Huete disturbed him, but he couldn't put his finger on it.  He knew that Farron had had dealings with the Colombians in the past, but he didn't know if Huete had been one of his gangs.  He stood back and brought his hand up to his chin.  According to Monica, Huete was a control freak and he had to have his thumb firmly down on his people, especially his women.  Of course, that also included prostitutes.  How could he use his ties to continually stuff cocaine up the noses of his women without ruining his profit margin?  It didn't make sense…unless he still trafficked cocaine and had not been caught yet.  Dozens of gangs had gone down with the Ortiz family; Farron had made sure of that.  To return the favor, the DEA had put him to work as a professional informant, a trainer of sorts.  Perhaps he would ask Farron about this man.  He might give them a boost and enough help to crack the case in record time.  Donovan liked opening them and closing them.  No fuss.  No muss.  Of course, it was never really that easy.  _Nothing_ was ever that easy.

At a quarter to six, Donovan began shutting his side of the operation down.  He intended to spend some serious quality time with his wife.  As he darted out of the building, purposely turning off his hearing, he wasn't aware that someone was watching him.  

His former lover and ex-fiancé had happened upon Donovan's place of work by sheer accident.  She had known he was a FBI agent when she saw him last, but she wasn't aware that he had broken away from the fold of hostage negotiation and moved on to something else.  A born leader, he had been courted to take over the SOU.  She knew this, had known he would lead ever since she first met him.  She tried extracting information from the main office at the FBI, but of course, no one would tell her anything.  So, on the day she had tried to dig up Donovan's new location, she had taken a walk down the city street, blending in with the hundreds of other faces rushing about.  She saw a tall man with dark hair, and that drew her attention.  Any man who fit that description caught her attention because they always reminded her of Donovan.  She looked at the man, thinking that it was yet another case of mistaken identity, only to find out a moment later that she had not been mistaken at all.  She hadn't returned often, because she didn't want him to see her yet.  When she first saw him, she was still battling her addiction and was a mess.  She wanted to wait until she was back to her old self, back to her best.  She wanted him to see her as she was the last time they were together.  Tonight was as good a time as any.  She glanced up from her vantage point and watched as he walked briskly down the street before rounding the corner.  He seemed to be in quite the hurry.  When he ducked into a small Chinese restaurant, she had been tempted to call out his name almost immediately, but some little twinge inside her forced her to back off.  As she peered into the glass door, she watched as he approached a young woman with dark auburn hair.  With all the ire of a scorned lover, she watched as he embraced the woman for a seeming eon before kissing her the same length of time.  She understood.  This woman must be his wife.  Ennui would make her entrance, would show herself to him, to his wife.

*  *  *

The little restaurant had been packed to the rafters when Loralei came in, and she considered herself lucky to find a small table for two toward the back.  It wasn't a very intimate setting, but she tried to finagle a table as far away from the other patrons as she could get.  Loralei liked this place, felt connected to it.  Here, she had met the man who became her husband and the father of her child [_children…it's plural now_].  Hell, she had probably fallen in love with him here as well.  Now that she had his undying attention, she couldn't even open her mouth to discuss with him the changes that were about to occur.  She immediately noticed that he was distracted a bit, as if he had something weighing heavily on his mind.  She was about to open her mouth to speak when a server popped up out of nowhere to take their dinner orders.  When Donovan ordered egg drop soup, the thought of that didn't sit well with her.  If she didn't get her mind off it, she wouldn't have to tell her husband anything.  She would puke on him, and he would know without a doubt.  When the server asked about drinks, Donovan ordered wine, Loralei chose water.  Her choice tweaked him a bit.  It seemed a little odd.  Normally, she would have had wine as well.  He shrugged it off as reluctance due to her overindulgence over the weekend.  

Donovan studied her a moment.  She was pale and seemed tired.  "Are you okay?"

Loralei looked up at Donovan.  She hadn't been aware he was watching her.  She smiled a little.  "I'm fine."

He reached across the table and took her hand.  "So, what's this thing we have to talk about?"

_Oh for Pete's sake, spit it out_.  She sighed heavily.  Why was she having such a hard time with this?  Her husband loved her, loved their daughter, and he had said dozens of times that he wanted more children after Rachel.  The little voice inside her head reminded her that Rachel was barely nine months old, and there would be roughly seventeen or eighteen months difference in age.  She couldn't believe she had conceived again so quickly.  She hadn't started back on the pill because it would take too long to wean off it.  They had relied on alternatives, and apparently those were less than reliable.  Both of them wanted another child, but hadn't they also discussed waiting for at least a year?  Damn it.  _Don't be a dope_, Alex's voice piped up.  _He will be thrilled_.  She could be coy, silly, evasive, or she could simply spit it out.  _I'm pregnant_.  What was less complicated than that?  

"Loralei," Donovan prompted.

She hadn't realized she was daydreaming.  "Sorry," she said with an embarrassed little smile.  "I have a lot on my mind.  We're going to-"

Loralei's voice died out totally as a tall model'esque woman with funky colored eyes placed her hand gently on Donovan's shoulder.  A moment after she touched him, she said 'vigoureux.'  _What the fuck is vigoureux_, Loralei thought.  She watched as the look on Donovan's face changed from extreme interest in her to absolute shock and horror at their unwelcome visitor.  Who was this woman?  Who was she and why was she touching her husband?  Calmly, without trying to cause a huge scene, Donovan reached up and grasped her fingers as if they were tainted by poison.  The moment her hand was off his shoulder, he released her.  He didn't want to touch her any longer than necessary.  _This cannot be happening_, he thought.  _Tell me I didn't just hear what I thought I did_.  At that point, he hadn't bothered looking up at the face he had grown to loathe.  Instead, he looked at his wife sitting across from him, seemingly apologizing for such an unexpected invasion of their evening.  Loralei wondered if he would ever speak, if he would ever tell her who this woman was.  Why was his expression the same disgusted pucker he had exhibited when Farron first came back into his life?

Ennui didn't seem affected one way or another by the way he removed her hand.  In fact, she didn't miss a beat.  She crossed her hands behind her back and didn't move a muscle.  "It's been a long time, hasn't it?  You look good," she said.

Without looking at her, he growled, "It hasn't been long enough to suit me.  I would appreciate it if you'd get the hell away from me.  Don't make me cause a scene."

"I won't, Vigoureux, but I may have some information you might find useful," she stated.  She had yet to look at Donovan's wife, but out of the periphery of her eye, she saw the woman studying her curiously, as if asking 'who the fuck are you?'  She almost smiled, but held back.  Donovan would take more work than she thought.

Finally, he fixed his eyes on her face.  He stared at her as if she were no more than a polluted cesspool.  "I don't want anything you have.  Do you understand?  Nothing.  I want you to leave.  I don't want to continue poisoning my eyes by setting them upon your face."

She nodded complacently.  She would play the game as long as it took.  She was convinced he still wanted her.  His hostility was a sure sign.  "Okay, I'll take my leave, but I _will_ be in touch."

A bitter smile touched his lips.  It was unlike anything Loralei had ever seen.  It was glittering and evil.  The light in his eyes had died completely and the color had gone from dark brown to black.  He was literally shaking with rage.  "Don't bother," he said.  "You have nothing I want," he repeated.  "You make me sick."

Shocked, Loralei watched as the woman smiled down at Donovan almost sweetly.  His rage didn't seem to hurt her one iota.  She turned away and walked toward the door.  Loralei quickly focused her eyes back on her husband's face.  He was slowly containing his rage, getting it under control.  He shook his head as if pondering one of life's great mysteries.  Actually, he was.  He wanted to laugh, but thought if he did, his wife would think he had lost his mind.

"Stupid, stupid bitch," he said.  Hadn't that thought crossed his mind today already?  

When he finally fixed his eyes on her face, they had changed again.  They were back to their normal, warm hue.  She wondered if he thought she was going to let this incident slide without comment.  She couldn't.  "Who was she?  Why was she calling you that funky name?  Frank, I want to know.  I've never seen you like this.  Goddamn it, talk to me."

He took her hand in his again.  "Not here, not around all these people.  Let's pick up the baby and go home."

*  *  *

Loralei stood in the darkened hallway and watched as Donovan gently put their daughter down for the night [or for however long it took before she threw a fit].  As she beheld his tenderness, the gentle way he tended to his daughter, she couldn't reconcile in her mind that this was the same man who had sat before her earlier.  At that point, he had been so upset that he could have chewed nails.  She sensed that he really didn't want to talk about the woman who had upset him so, but she didn't care.  _She_ wanted to talk about it.  _She_ wanted to know.  He came out of the baby's room and immediately saw her standing near their bedroom door.  He owed her an explanation, he had no trouble recognizing that, but he didn't really want to think about _her_ ever again.  Not only that, but this common piece of trash was a hideous ghost of his past, and he had no desire to revisit her.  In fact, she hadn't haunted him in years.  He had hardly thought of her at all, and when he met and fell in love with Loralei, he had forgotten she existed.  After all, the woman he stood gazing at was the one, the _only_ one he would sacrifice anything [including his life] for; she was the only woman who mattered to him right now.  He hadn't given a second thought about what she had tried to tell him tonight.  Again, he was thoroughly distracted by the visit of the hideous monster from hell, the stupid bitch who thought she had a _nodding_ chance of getting back in his good graces.

She had known him long enough to recognize his 'I'd rather not talk about it' expression.  A moment ago, she had been hell-bent to discover the identity of the woman.  However, she was also upset.  Their calm evening had been ruined, and he still didn't know [or have a clue] that she was going to have another baby.  Instead of getting in his face and demanding answers, as was her custom, she turned toward the bedroom door, opened it, and slipped inside the room.  Sighing, he followed her.  _Good going_, he thought.  She had read his expression well, she was so good at that, and he kicked himself a little.  He had hurt her again.  He simply didn't care enough about Ennui to even talk about her, or the idiotic letter she had sent him.  

Donovan laid his hand on the light switch.  "Do you mind if I turn on the light?"

"Nope," she said.  "Do what you want, I'm just changing."

He flicked on the light switch and watched in amusement as she furiously worked on a knot she had made in her shoestring.  If she had been in a better mode, he might have laughed.  However, if he did that, she would probably kick his ass.  She had just enough red in her hair to be a trumped up spitfire when pushed.  She cried out in aggravated disgust [grrr] when she couldn't loosen the knot.  Giving up, she kicked off the shoes and chunked them under the bed.  She started to undress, but changed her mind.  Confused, he watched as she lay back on the bed and began to stare at the ceiling.  

"Even after living with you for a few years, you can still confuse me," he said suddenly, a hint of a grin touching his lips.

She didn't glance at him when she said, "It's from hunger.  If you didn't notice, we didn't exactly get to eat.  I'm all weak and shit."  She sighed.  "So, what brought about the sudden change in mood?  Have you ever been tested for manic-depression?"

What she had really meant was 'Let's talk about this before I punch you out.'  Donovan shook his head incredulously.  "Loralei, I'd rather not think about her again," he began as if he had read her mind [and he probably had].  "She is nothing to me, and I don't see how discussing her will do any good."

Never taking her eyes off the ceiling, she said, "She touched you, Frank.  She touched you as if she knew you like I do.  She called you something which I'm sure was a pet name.  Women who have never slept with a man don't give them pet names like that.  What does it mean, anyway?  Vigorous?"

He went to her side of the bed and tapped her leg, indicating that she should move them.  After a stubborn moment of hesitation, she lifted her legs just long enough to allow him to sit down before she plopped them across his.  "Loralei, it's not that I'm trying to hide anything by not telling you, I just don't consider her important enough to mention.  The role she played in my life was insignificant, no more than cobwebs hanging from the corner of the room.  Her name is Ennui Principio, and I met her when I was still a hostage negotiator.  We _were_ together for a brief time, and it became a bit serious, but I wasn't what she wanted.  What drew the anger out of me tonight was that she wrote me a letter, thinking that she would have another chance.  She mistakenly thought I'd still be at her beck and call, that I'd be the same man she left behind.  She means no more to me than any other woman I was with before I met you."

She remained silent for a long time, allowing his words to sink in her brain.  This woman, this Ennui, was gorgeous.  She could have been a model with her perfect looks and tall, lean body.  She had predatory eyes, and she fucking touched her husband.  Out of everything, that thought pissed her off the most.  She wasn't typically a jealous woman.  Hell, she couldn't blame other women who gave her husband appreciative glances as they walked by.  She was _married_ to him for God's sake, and she still lusted over him as if he were an unobtainable fantasy man.  She didn't understand how Donovan had made light of this woman's influence in his life.  She had seen him, had seen the sheer rage in his eyes and body language.  Something about her must have touched him.  

"Frank, why did she leave you," she asked suddenly.

He shook his head.  "Baby, it's not important."

She took his attitude as one of avoidance and she wanted to say something, but she bit the words back.  The entire length of their relationship, neither of them had even _looked_ at other people.  Why, all of a sudden, was she so insecure?  This was a new feeling for her, and she didn't like it.  She supposed it had a lot to do with being pregnant and awkward.  Who would blame him if his eyes wondered when her body was heavy with child?  Of course, she had a long way to go before that happened, but still it sank deeply within her mind and held on for dear life.  Along with that, she thought that this woman meant more to him than he let on.  Horribly enough, she couldn't stop thinking that he might, just _might_, want to have an affair with her.  _Don't be ridiculous_, she thought.  _He loves you_.  She wanted to voice her fears, but he would only tell her she was crazy, and perhaps she was.  When she was pregnant with Rachel, she had been fairly loony, hadn't she?  It would probably be no different with this baby.  Once again, she found herself wanting to blurt it out, but she held back.  The hag with claws for fingernails had ruined the moment.

*  *  *

Still smarting over the scene with Kara, Farron wasn't quite at his best.  He had hidden in his apartment with his beloved scotch.  For hours after Enni left him, he drank until he passed out, and then he showered to get the stink of her off his body.  He finally felt a bit normal right now, but he was still down.  He looked up with a frown when his doorbell rang.  He was certain it was Enni again.  He was tempted to grab the empty scotch bottle on the counter and brain her with it.  Instead, he stalked to the door and threw it open.  Intent on shouting at her until he couldn't speak, he stood back in shock as he saw that his guests were Loralei and Rachel.

"Loralei?  What are you doing here?"

"I need your help," she said.

He groaned inwardly at the sick ironies of life.  Hadn't Enni spoken the very same words to him?  Without speaking, he stepped back so she could enter.  Farron smiled a little when he noticed Rachel goggling at him owlishly.  The man _looked_ like Daddy, but _wasn't_ Daddy.  He watched as Loralei sat on the edge of the couch and placed Rachel onto her lap.  He sat across from her and waited expectantly for her to speak.  

Without pussy footing around, she spat, "What do you know about a woman named Ennui Principio?"

"She came to you," Farron asked cautiously.

She nodded.  "Yes, last night while Frank and I were trying to talk.  She went to him, and he could have killed her with his eyes.  Who is she, Farron?  Do you know her?  What happened with her and Frank?"

_How many times am I going to have to relive every betrayal of my brother_?  "We called her Enni, it was something that Frank pinned on her when they were together.  From what I understand, she was a nurse here in Chicago and was working the night Frank came in with a bullet wound.  After his release, they began dating, then she moved in with him, and later, they became engaged."

Startled, Loralei gawped at her brother in-law.  "_Engaged_?  He was going to marry her?  He blew her off as if she were nothing more than a run-of-the-mill girlfriend."  Her worries and insecurities suddenly went up an octave.

He nodded.  "Yes, Loralei, they were engaged.  He brought her home and proposed to her there.  At the time, I was Mateo full swing, and I came home for a breather from the life.  To put it gently, I seduced her, and Frank caught us…should I say…in the middle of the act.  He immediately left and never saw her again.  She followed me to Colombia and became addicted to cocaine.  She then began prostituting herself to the men in my gang for her drug.  When I parted ways with the _familia_, she stayed behind working for her addiction."

She sighed heavily.  Her brother in-law's past was a colorful as Donovan's, just on a much sleazier scale.  Without realizing she was doing it, she tightened her hold on her daughter's body.  "Did you know she's back?"

He nodded thoughtfully.  "Oh yes.  She came to me asking for help.  The gang has spread out to Chicago, and she fears for her life.  She came to me, but she wants Frank.  She made that very obvious."

Batting aside Farron's betrayal for a moment, there was a question she dreaded asking, but she needed an answer.  "Farron, how did Frank feel about her before he left her?" 

"Loralei, you have nothing to fear.  Whatever he felt then died the moment he saw us together.  If they had married, I'm almost certain it would have ended in divorce.  If she gave in to my seduction, she would have given in to another's.  It simply wasn't meant to be."

She wasn't convinced.  She wasn't convinced at all.     


	5. A Troubling Case

A TROUBLING CASE

The day Loralei had gone to Farron about Ennui Principio, she went home immediately afterward.  She didn't feel like doing much else.  That night, regardless of her schedule the following morning, she stayed up long after midnight.  She tried to sleep, but it was no use.  She sat up with a book, but couldn't really concentrate on that, either.  Feeling more and more unsettled, she left the bed and went to her daughter.  She took Rachel out of her bed and brought her back to her room.  She didn't want to admit that was lonely and needed some companionship.  It didn't seem as if her husband was in a big hurry to come home.  She hated herself for feeling so jealous, but damn if she wasn't afraid that her husband was with _her_.  _No.  He wouldn't.  He wouldn't do that to you_.  She wanted to call him, but didn't dare pick up the phone.  If she called and he didn't answer the phone, it would break her heart.  Of course, she had no idea what was going on, that Donovan had a full-blown crisis before him.

It started earlier that day when Cody and Monica had dug up every bit of information they could find about the Huete gang.  Cody had somehow unearthed several photographs of Huete, and Donovan studied them to see if he could recognize the man.  There was nothing in his rugged face that seemed the slightest bit familiar.  He was closer and closer to contacting Farron.  He started to reach for the phone when Cody cleared his throat and announced that he had discovered some photos of Huete's women.  Donovan wasn't exactly interested in seeing the women, but Cody kept going on and on about how lovely this one particular woman was, what a shame it was that she was a prostitute, blah, blah, blah.  Groaning incoherently, he strolled over to Cody and stood behind him.  He focused his eyes on the blurry photograph for what seemed like a year.  He recognized the woman of course, but his brain didn't quite accept the information it had taken in.  This photo was a few years old, probably taken not long after he left her in Florida with Farron.  Incredibly, he shook his head.  There was a definite connection, and a huge one with Farron as well.  What had the viper said in the restaurant?  She had some information for him?  The bitch had become a whore and now she wanted to turn to him.  Her unmitigated gall was absolutely amazing.

"The woman," Monica said, "is known as Primera.  She evidentially is Huete's top girl.  Rumor has it that she broke away a few months ago and completely disappeared.  She could probably help us out, if we could find her."

Monica's words went in one ear and out the other.  She didn't know that their witness, their 'informant,' if you will, had approached him while he was trying to spend some time with his wife.  He had no desire to bring her in, none at all.  However, he might have to swallow his disgust just long enough to extract information from her.  Of course, he would give that job to Jake.  He didn't want to speak to her, didn't want her to think there could ever be anything between them.  She already mistakenly thought he gave a damn, and if he actually called her to come, her mind would fly off into a direction that made him sick at his stomach.  Goddamn he hated the idea that she _did_ have something to add.  Goddamn if he hated to admit that her input could help Alex infiltrate the ring.  Sighing grudgingly, he stepped away for a moment and ran his hands over his face.  He would have to tell them, he would have to mention it no matter how much he hated it.  He glanced at the clock and saw it was past seven.  Before he said a word, he took off upstairs to call Loralei.  There would be no going home early tonight.  Once he spoke to his wife [feeling like a shit the entire time…he had been neglecting the hell out of her lately], he hung up and called Farron.

With a heavy and disgusted heart, he left his office with Farron's information in hand.  The photos were still up and Donovan avoided the hell out of them.  He stood back behind the two agents with a sheet of notepaper in his hand.  Not only did Farron know Huete, but he also had some interesting information to share about him.  How would he go about this?  How would he tell them that this cocaine prostitute had once been engaged to him?  "I know this woman," he spat.  There was no other way to do it, none at all.

Cody turned around for a moment and focused his startled eyes on Donovan's face.  "You do, Boss?  No shit?"

"No shit," he said.  He glanced at Jake and handed him a slip of paper.  "This is her contact information.  Call her and get her down here.  I don't want to see her, or hear her voice, do you understand?"

Jake gazed down at the slip of paper.  "Uh, sure, Boss.  How do you know her?"

"It's not important," he spat as he headed toward his office.  He didn't want to be here when she arrived.  He was afraid he might strangle her.

Alex watched as Donovan slipped upstairs.  She wondered if Loralei had told him about the baby yet.  She figured she hadn't just his demeanor.  _What's the hold up_, she thought.  If Loralei didn't tell him soon, Alex wasn't sure how long she could keep it a secret.  She was tempted to call her friend, but didn't want Donovan hearing their conversation.  If anyone needed to let the cat of out the bag, it was Loralei.

*  *  *

_He has sent for me.  He has finally sent for me.  I knew it was only a matter of time_, Enni thought as she stood before a full-length mirror.  Of course, it hadn't been Donovan who actually called her, but it was good enough for her.  The thought of being near him was enough to make her smile.  She put on tight jeans [that left little to the imagination] and an equally snug sweater that would accentuate her abundant breasts.  With a catty little giggle, she noted that his pale little wife wasn't as endowed as she.  _Poor Frank_, she thought.  He was always a breast man and he had been missing out far too long.  She gasped suddenly.  She had almost forgotten the most important part of her wardrobe.  How could she be so careless?  So stupid?  It had to be the thought of being so close to him again.  She popped open her little jewelry box and found her most prized piece.  It was the engagement ring he had given her when they had an entire future laid out before them.  He would come around.  Besides, if a man was overly aggressive, didn't it always mean he was denying his feelings?  It did.  She had no doubt.

It took Enni longer to find a parking space than it did the building.  She had been here before, though, but she didn't want any of them knowing it.  As she strolled up to the building and entered, two men and two women greeted her.  Donovan was nowhere in sight.  Her eyes followed a strip of floor over to a small flight of stairs that led to a second floor office.  This office would be Donovan's.  It was exactly what he would have chosen for his sanctuary.  She wondered why he hadn't bothered to come down to her.  He had sent for her, and surely, he would want to see her, wouldn't he?

One of the men approached her.  He had a stocky build and thick dark brown hair.  "If you'll follow me-"

Enni stepped back as if she were offended.  "I will not speak to anyone but Frank.  If he can't face me, I will not talk.  Do you understand?"

Jake sighed.  He had little patience with this Colombian shit.  It was too close to Farron for his comfort level.  "Donovan specifically asked that I interview you.  I promise it will be harmless.  Please come with me."

She crossed her arms over her chest as if she were a wayward child.  "No, I will _not_ follow you.  If you don't bring Frank down, I'll walk.  I'll wait here while you retrieve him.  If he won't speak to me, then you're wasting your time."

Jake sighed angrily and looked her up and down with a drawl of disgust on his face.  "Fine, lady, whatever.  Stay down here and I'll inform him of your…reluctance."  He walked away from the painted lady and casually climbed the stairs.  He knocked on the door and entered only after Donovan barked an annoyed 'come in.'  

Donovan fixed his eyes on Jake's face.  "What is it?"

He sighed.  "She won't talk to me.  She said if you don't come downstairs, she'll walk."

Donovan was tempted to tell Jake to pass along a heartfelt 'fuck off' to the woman downstairs.  Damn it.  They needed her information.  When he had spoken to Farron earlier, he had told him that Enni had gone with him to Colombia and became Huete's mistress before he seduced her into the life of prostituting herself for cocaine.  After that, she had taken her trustworthy good looks out onto the streets to recruit other young women and teenage girls.  Farron had been more than reluctant to speak about Enni considering their past history.  However, Donovan had calmly explained that it was mere water under the bridge.  He held no ill will toward his brother, not anymore.  He listened as Farron went into great detail regarding Enni's involvement.  He only touched upon her recent breaking away.  Actually, Farron hadn't wanted to mention that he had fucked around with her.  Donovan sighed heavily and buried his face into his hands for a few moments.  He didn't show vulnerability in front of his agents very often, but right at that moment, he couldn't help it.  He figured that Jake wanted to know what his connection was to the cocaine call girl, but he didn't care to repeat it.

"Tell her I'll be down in a minute," he said through gritted teeth.  

Enni waited impatiently for Donovan to appear.  She could feel the eyes of the other agents, sizing her up, and judging her.  What did they know?  She cared little about them, she only wanted Donovan, and by God, she would have him.  She watched as the one named 'Jake' came downstairs a few moments before Donovan sauntered down.  She noticed he had a similar look on his face that he had worn at the restaurant.  This time, though, it was a bit more sedate.  He was coming around.  Yes, slowly but surely.  Donovan stopped when he was no closer than five feet from her.  He didn't want to be any closer for fear of wrapping his hands around her throat.  Actually, he didn't care enough about her to strangle her.  Without a word, without a sound, he turned away from her and made his way toward the conference table.  Enni and the four agents followed silently behind.  Donovan pulled out a chair and sat down with little fanfare.  He focused his eyes on Enni's face and waited for her to speak.  He didn't want to ask one question.  If she had a story to tell, she could do her own damn talking.

When Enni sat down, she laid her arms out on the table and crossed her hands in front of her.  Of course, she had done this blatantly.  She wanted him to see the engagement ring, wanted to show him that she was still committed to him in more ways than one.  Donovan gave her a cursory glance and then his eyes fell on her left hand.  To his sheer horror, he saw that she was wearing the engagement ring.  After all these years, she had kept it.  He was tempted to ask why she hadn't pawned it off for cocaine.  He couldn't pity her, couldn't feel anything.  He once again found himself thinking that she had a lot of nerve about her.  

"So you know what I've been up to since I saw you last," Enni said suddenly, keeping her eyes focused on his profile.

Donovan shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.  He didn't hesitate to fix a steely gaze on her face.  "I must say that I'm not surprised in the least bit, especially considering your weakness for sleazy sex."  His comment didn't make her blink.  "I'm not here to focus on our past, Ms. Principio.  What I need to know is what you can do for this assignment.  Although laughable, it has been noted that you're reformed."

"_Ms. Principio_," she said with a laugh.  "How formal.  I would have thought you could manage something better than that.  I have seen you naked, after all."

Looks of shocked surprise were shared among the four agents seated at the table.  The boss said he knew this woman, but he hadn't mentioned in what context.  

_Thank God Loralei isn't here_, Alex thought.  

He shrugged again.  "Ancient history archived in the 'flushed down the toilet' file.  This will remain a formal meeting, Ms. Principio.  I have no desire to have a conversation beyond business.  In fact, I have no desire to speak to you at all.  The choice is simple.  You either want to assist us as an informant, or you don't.  Your information would help, but my agents can handle it if you decide not to assist.  There's nothing more, nothing less.  Make your decision.  You're wasting my time.  I have a job to do, a wife and a daughter to go home to, and I have little patience for your bullshit right now."

_Once you feel my hands all over your body, Vigoureux, you will change your mind.  I could always control you with a simple touch.  I did it then, and it would be easy to do it now_.  "I'll do whatever I can, but I must ask for your protection.  Alca Huete will kill me if he finds me.  I know how powerful you are, Frank, and I know that you can protect me."

He almost laughed.  "Nervy, aren't you?  I also have no desire to protect you.  However, I will see what I can do.  Perhaps Director Fielder will assign an agent to act as a bodyguard throughout the duration of this case.  I won't be involved with you directly, so don't look for it, and definitely don't expect it."  He stood suddenly and glanced at the people sitting around the table.  "This is over.  Alex, Jake, allow Ms. Principio to give you whatever information she has."  Without another word, Donovan walked away and went back upstairs to his office.

*  *  *

It was one in the morning before Donovan finally came home.  He found Loralei asleep on the bed, still fully dressed.  Rachel rested comfortably in the crook of her arm.  She had been sleeping as well until she heard Daddy entering the room.  She focused her vibrant eyes on his face and smiled up at him adoringly.  She cried out a happy "da" as he approached.  Her piping baby voice didn't disturb Loralei the least bit.  Donovan smiled a little and carefully lifted her out of his wife's embrace.  He gently hugged her and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Shh," he whispered.  "If you wake her up, she might hurt me."

She cried:  "No!  Da!"

Donovan quickly carried her out of the room and moved toward hers.  When he returned, Loralei was awake and gazing around the room in confusion.  She glanced at the bedside clock and noticed the hour.  

"Where have you been," she asked indignantly.

"Helping interrogate a witness," he said simply.  "It took much longer than I thought.  Are you okay?  You sound pissed off."

Was she?  She shook her head.  No.  She wasn't pissed off, she was scared and jealous.  "I'm sorry, I just expected you to come home sooner, that's all."  She sighed a little as he began undressing for a quick shower before bed.  She was tempted to examine his back for telltale fingernail scratches.  _Would you stop_?  "Frank, we need to find some time to talk.  I know you're tied up, but here lately, we've hardly had more than two hours alone."

The shower could wait.  He tossed his sweater into the laundry basket before he approached her and sat down beside her.  "I'm yours."

_Was he?  Was he **really**?_  Stop it.  "I've been trying to talk to you for a few days now, but something always comes up before I can say what I need to say."

His hand came up and rested gently on the side of her face.  She turned her cheek into it before he ran his fingers through her hair.  "I know, and I'm sorry for that.  I've been neglecting you, and I thought that would never happen.  I have a lot on my mind, but it doesn't excuse what I've done to you."

_You and me both, bub_.  "You don't have to apologize, Frank.  I knew what I was getting into when I married you.  That's not it.  It's something else, and I don't know how you will react, but on the Monday after our housewarming thing, I-"

Before she could say another word, his work cell phone began to ring from the depths of his jacket pocket.  When he began to undress, he had thrown it haphazardly over the back of a nearby chair.  "I'll ignore it.  Go ahead," he told her.

"Answer the phone, Frank, I can't stand hearing it ring," she said with a sigh.  

"No," he insisted.  "Tell me.  I told you, I'm all yours."

It seemed as if the damn cell phone had rung fifteen dozen times.  Surely, the voice mail would have kicked on by now, but it didn't.  Her nerves already frazzled, Loralei couldn't stand it.  She got up, went over to his jacket, grabbed the phone, and snapped it open.  She handed it to her husband and waited for him to take it.  Sighing in frustration, he took the phone from her outstretched hand.

He stood and walked over to the other side of the room.  "Donovan."  A pause.  "I told you not to call me here, I think I made that clear."  

He couldn't see Loralei's face, but she stood gazing at her husband in disbelief.  Who the hell was he talking to?  Did he think she was stupid?  Why hadn't she answered the damn phone before giving it to him?  Damn it.  She hated feeling this way. 

"I don't care.  Do what you must."  He snapped the phone closed and stuffed it back into the jacket.  Before turning toward his wife, he caressed the nape of his neck.

"Who was that," she asked softly.

He glanced at her and shook his head.  'It's not a big deal,' the gesture seemed to say.  The phone call had distracted him yet again.  "Fielder."

"At one in the morning?"

He turned toward her.  His glance had become a gaze.  "Yes," he said.  "He's helping with our new case, and earlier, I had to drag him out of bed.  I suppose he thinks he had to return the favor."

"Frank?  Does this have anything to do with that woman from the restaurant the other night?"

She had asked the question on purpose.  Of course, he didn't realize that she had talked to Farron already, and knew more than she wanted to know.  Perhaps she was trying to gauge his reaction.  She was certain he would blow it off, and he did.

He shrugged for a third time.  "Loralei, baby, I told you that she has no impact on my life whatsoever."  He went about discarding the rest of his clothing.  It seemed as if he suddenly remembered he had yet to shower.

She recognized the tone of his voice.  He didn't want to discuss the issue further, and she wouldn't push it.  She simply didn't want to deal with the thoughts rushing through her mind.  How could she mistrust him so?  She had never felt like this before.  Well, that wasn't exactly true.  She had felt like this in the brief span of weeks their relationship had cooled [died] during the first round with Black Heart.  Even then, she had loved him.  She had watched him as 'the baron' with several other women who were ready to snag their hooks into him.  It was the same feeling, only intensified.  Did she really doubt him, or was she simply overemotional because of the baby?  She watched silently while he stepped into the bathroom and started the shower.

"I'm pregnant, you jerk," she grumbled under her breath.  She intended to wait up for him, but her exhaustion didn't allow her to stay awake.    


	6. The Trouble With Women

THE TROUBLE WITH WOMEN…

He gently lowered his body atop hers and buried his face into her soft, soft hair.  It had been a while since he had last touched her in such an intimate way.  Where had the time gone?  Where had _he_ gone?  It was almost daybreak.  The sun attempted to peak inside the window, but the blind prevented it.  Good.  He didn't want the day to begin any sooner than it had to; he could lay here with her forever, his body connected to hers throughout all eternity.  However, they had to face reality.  Yet, for the time being, he was content not to move a muscle.  He was in no great hurry.  Neither was she.  She had thought he had lost interest in her.  She didn't realize that he would _never_ lose interest in her regardless of the situation, what he said, or how he acted.  However, he would literally have to hit her on the head with it.  After he had recovered somewhat, he rose up just a little [not quite breaking the connection between their bodies] and laid a deep kiss on her more than eager mouth.  She brought her hands up and thrust them into his short hair to hold him in place until she was satisfied.  Of course, he didn't seem to notice, didn't seem to care.  If they kept it up, he would want her again, and he wasn't sure he had enough time.  She secured her legs about his waist and held onto him tightly, reluctant to let go, but she knew she must.  He certainly couldn't stay with her all day.  He had other places to go, other people to see.  He broke the kiss and allowed his lips to drift onto her cheek before they traveled down her throat.  As she continued to run her hands through his hair, she hoped this was more than a mercy fuck, but she was afraid to admit that it was probably exactly that.  That thought hurt above all others swirling in her addled brain.

His lips moved from her throat to her ear, and his teeth nipped it gently.  He chuckled warmly and it fell into her ear, making her shiver.  "You know," Donovan said, "if we keep this up, our one-year plan might not pan out."

Loralei drew in a sharp intake of breath as if startled.  "Do you think that's a bad thing," she asked.  His reaction to her question would tell her exactly what she needed to know before she broke the news.  _If I ever get a chance_, she thought.

He rose up just a little and gazed at her.  "No, not really."

"There's a but, isn't there," she asked, suddenly very intensely interested.

Confused a little, his brow furrowed with concern.  Where was this coming from?  They'd already discussed this, hadn't they?  "Baby, are you trying to start a fight," he asked, half-serious, half-not.  

"No," she said.  "I want to know how you feel about it.  What if it were to happen?  What if I were to become pregnant before Rachel is a year old?"  _Goddamn it, Frank Donovan, take the hint_.

"Loralei, I don't understand where this is coming from.  I made a silly comment.  It's not a big deal."

It _was_ a big deal.  Why couldn't he understand that?  He was blowing her off on this issue the same as he was with the woman.  His words were very telling.  He didn't want it to happen, wouldn't be happy about it at all.  He had a 'one-year plan' and wanted to meticulously follow it as he had done with every decision he made, be it at home or work.  There was no room for mistakes.  Of course, the baby wasn't necessarily a mistake, it was just unexpected.  They had planned to the letter with Rachel.  She was once again tempted to ask him about the woman, to ask if he had made love to her as a way of placating her.  She began to wonder if there was a new case at all, or if he had lied about that.  She wouldn't delve into it right now, because she wanted to believe she was simply hysterical.  Whatever the case, it was simple.  She was pregnant and whether he liked it or not, it wouldn't just go away.  Since he had reacted so lukewarm to the idea, she wasn't in such a big hurry to tell him now.  It could wait.  She wouldn't show for another two or three months.

"Loralei?"

She snapped out of her daze and looked at him.  "I'm okay.  I was just making conversation, that's all."  If he could be nonchalant, so could she.  "I think you better get off me if you don't want to be late."

She had meant for the comment to be flip, as was her custom, but there was a tinge of sadness to it.  "Baby?"  He had the sinking feeling that he had hurt her.  But for the life of him, he didn't know how.

"It's okay, Frank.  Go on, I insist."

*  *  *

Kara felt like a pitiful wreck.  After walking in on Farron in a more than compromising position, she had gone home and took to her bed.  She had no idea why this man had affected her in such a way.  Perhaps it was due to the fact that he _was_ her first.  How funny was that?  She was [er, had been] a twenty-eight year old virgin.  What a joke.  Since she had consented to sleeping with him, she didn't exactly regret her choice, even though she now realized that Farron Donovan was a womanizing bastard.  However, it didn't stop her from feeling so very badly.  What did she expect?  Did she think he was going to ask for her hand in marriage or some silly shit?  She barely knew him, had only seen him briefly, but it hadn't stopped her from allowing him to take her to his bed [er, sleeper sofa].  She shouldn't have expected more than what he gave her.  Yet, she felt just as betrayed as she would have if they had been an established couple.  She cursed herself for going to Loralei to ask for his address.  Had she expected more than what happened?  She hated to admit it, but she did.  She expected to come into his life, get to know him a little better, and then let nature take over.  Damn him.  Damn all men.  

She wasn't a plain Jane, she wasn't hideous, or ugly, or insane.  She was simply an innocent person who had been burned more than once.  Most of the men in her life wanted her only for her money.  None of them showed any real interest in her, and when they discovered that she was a virgin, they assumed she preferred the company of women to men.  It wasn't true.  She wasn't a prude [although Farron had labeled her one], but she also didn't want to wind up sacrificing herself to a man only to be robbed blind.  Sighing heavily, she managed to leave her bed and began the job of living again.  She dressed casually and went downstairs.  Fixing herself a cup of tea, she found her eyes fixed on the Donovan home.  Her mind played back time and time again to her night with Farron.  _Stop it right now_, she thought.  She turned away from the window, took her tea, and entered the living room.

She had just gotten comfortable when her doorbell rang.  Sighing, she set down her teacup and went to the door.  _When you think of the devil, he appears_.  "What the fuck are you doing here," she demanded.  She startled herself.  She hadn't ever uttered the word 'fuck' in her life.

Farron tore his eyes off hers long enough to shake his head.  "We each owe the other an incredible explanation.  I know you're angry and hurt, but so was I when you left.  Would you at least hear me out before you slam the door on me forever?"

Kara didn't respond.  She simply walked away and stepped over to her spot on the sofa.  She sat down and took her teacup in hand.  If he thought she was going to invite him in, he had another think coming.  Of course, she wasn't in a big hurry to ask him to leave, either.  His showing up said something to her, said something that had never been uttered in her presence before.  He didn't know her, but he seemed to care, to feel horrid for what he had done.  Besides, he was right.  She owed him an explanation as well.  Basically, she had betrayed him just as he had her.  

Farron entered the foyer and closed the door behind him.  He saw that she had sat down casually as if she didn't care about anyone or anything except her delicate china cup and tea.  He wanted to ask if she would mind if he sat beside her.  He bit it back and decided to do it anyway.  If she wanted him to move, she would say so.  Tentatively, he sat beside her, feeling as awkward as a dirty child seated on a pristine white couch.  He watched as she raised her cup to her beautifully full lips and took a sip of tea.  He had yet to forget how those lips tasted, and he ached to taste them again.

"Should I go first," he asked sedately.

"Do what you want," she said stubbornly.

He sighed and caressed the nape of his neck.  He had affected the move after watching his brother doing it repeatedly.  Every now and then, he caught himself doing it and not being exactly aware of it at all.  "The woman you saw doesn't mean anything to me.  Whether you believe that or not, it's true.  She was someone I knew in another life, and I do not want to know her now.  I will not lie and tell you that I didn't take her to bed.  I did, and there was no excuse for that behavior.  I won't blame you if you choose not to believe me, but since we were together that night at my brother's home, I haven't been able to get you off my mind.  I have had a very bad, very colorful past, and I can safely say that I have never felt like this before.  I hate it that I hurt you, I hate it that you had to see what you saw.  All I can do is ask for your forgiveness.  If you give that to me, I'll be satisfied whether you agree to see again or not."

His words touched her, of course.  He was a shit, no doubt, but he was a _sincere_ shit.  No one had ever spoken to her so plainly and meant it.  "I can forgive that, especially if it was a mistake, but you have to understand some things about me.  What happened between us has never happened to me before.  I have never…touched a man I didn't know well.  I have met tons of men, but most of them were after my money, so I become a bit of a bitch to gorgeous men who suddenly develop an interest in me.  I've had boyfriends, some of them serious, but I've found that handsome men are usually financially insecure, and they tend to hunt for wealthy heiresses.  But there's something else you must understand, Farron, and this may frighten you.  You were my first, and when I woke up and realized what I'd done, I couldn't deal with the emotions running through me.  I've never wanted a man enough to let him make love to me, not until I met you."

He gazed at her, shocked.  She was a virgin?  He hadn't noticed, hadn't had an _inkling_ of an idea.  Of course, he wasn't exactly paying attention to the differences in the pitch of her voice as she cried out when he entered her.  All he had focused on was the need to please her, to show her what he could do for her, the heights he could take her.  He didn't exactly know how to deal with her bombshell.  He probably hadn't made love to a virgin since he lost his own virginity at fourteen.  Instead of focusing on the shock, the sheer jolting surprise, he shook his head and found a smile touching his lips.  "If you think that's bad, let me tell you what I used to do for money."

*  *  *

Donovan was none to pleased when he entered the Nest and saw Ennui the first thing.  She was seated at the conference table with Alex and Jake.  With a pang of disgust, he noticed that she was wearing the engagement ring again.  Would she ever stop?  He walked past the conference table without a look her way.  He could feel her eyes on him, following him about the room.  Perhaps in a few days, they would no longer need her input, and his FBI brethren could deal with her.  Normally, he would have sat in on the session and aided with their strategy.  Not today.  Not with her.  The sooner she was out of his life, the better it would be.  He bypassed them and made his way up to his office.  

As he sat behind his desk, a deep sigh left his throat.  At home, work distracted him.  At work, home distracted him.  He was worried about his wife.  She seemed to have the wrong idea about his feelings for Ennui.  _What feelings_, he thought, _there are none_.  He was completely ambivalent, but he often thought she didn't believe him.  He had told her dozens of times that he didn't want to speak about her because his past with her wasn't worth the waste of his breath.  Something didn't make sense.  He had been preoccupied by work before, but it never seemed to bother her.  Why would it bother her now?  After all the horrid mystery and secrets Loralei had held before he fell in love her, he never imagined she could confuse him so thoroughly after all had been revealed.  

*  *  *

Alex broke away from the bull session for a moment.  Donovan seemed more distracted than ever before.  Of course, she knew the woman had more to do with it than anything else.  Keeping an eye out for the boss, she announced she needed a smoke break.  Jake hardly glanced at her [he had hardly exchanged two dozen words with her since that kissy kissy on the deck at Donovan and Loralei's].  She slipped outside and whipped out her phone.  She dialed a number and when the phone was answered, she said, "So?"

"He doesn't know," Loralei said.  "We had a 'what if' discussion this morning, and he made it a little plain that he wasn't ready for another baby."

"He _didn't_," Alex spat.  "Come on, maybe you're just imagining things."

"Nope, I'm not.  Can I say something without sounding totally paranoid?"  Before she gave Alex a chance to speak, she continued, "Some woman approached us while we were trying to have dinner.  She was an ex-fiancée of Frank's.  He acted relatively weird around her, and I think he may be with her in the biblical sense."

The pain in her voice was clearly broadcast.  She _had_ to be talking about the cocaine call girl sitting with Jake inside.  "Loralei, don't be ridiculous.  He's not cheating on you.  He would _never_ cheat on you."  She had to fight to keep from blurting out the woman's name.  If Loralei heard it, heard that she was working with the team, her paranoia would become rage.

She sighed.  "I know.  It sounds stupid, but when I ask him about her, he is very evasive and won't tell me anything.  What little I know, I had to pry out of Farron.  He knew her, too."  'Knew her' was a sedate description at best.  "Anyway, it seems as if I need a little time to spring this new kid on Frank.  It's okay, I expected he would be less than overjoyed."

"You don't _know_ that, Loralei.  Damn it just spit it out.  Do it before you drive yourself crazy."

"Too late," she spat through a bitter chuckle.  "Gotta go.  Morning sickness is working on me."

*  *  *

Later that evening, Cody was the only person left in the Nest.  Jake, Alex, and Monica had gone to scope out the territory of Alca Huete.  Donovan had left for a breath of fresh air.  He had been confined to the office so long that he felt as if he were going stir crazy.  Cody glanced at the clock often.  He had a date tonight, and she was supposed to meet him in about twenty minutes.  He worked furiously to catch up on a few backlogged programs.  When he heard the outside door opening, he didn't give it a second thought.  He assumed it was Donovan returning from his walk.  Instead, he was faced by a pissed off Ennui Principio and a slate-faced FBI agent.

"Uh, hello there, Happy.  Can I help you," Cody asked the agent.

"I have been called to active duty for a few hours, and I was directed to bring the witness back here," the agent grumbled.

Cody glanced at the woman before settling his eyes on the clock.  _A few hours_?  Jenna would be displeased.  "Isn't there anyone else?"

"Nope.  Besides, she's really _your_ witness, not ours."  Without another word, the agent left Ennui with a flabbergasted Cody.

He sighed.  "I'll baby-sit you until the boss returns, then it's his turn."

Ennui was disgusted with this geeky agent.  She didn't want to stay with him, but the prospect of being alone with Donovan was a thrilling idea.  "Whatever," she spat.  "I'd like to lay down."

He nodded toward a small alcove in the corner.  "There's a couch in there.  Have at it."  

Cody didn't glance at her a second time as he moved past him.  He kept watching the clock and grumbling under his breath.  Jenna would kill him for sure.  After twenty minutes, Cody breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the door opening a second time.  He didn't bother waiting to see who it was.  He gathered his stuff and headed toward the door.  

"It's your watch, Boss," Cody spat as he ripped past Donovan.

"What do you mean," he called out.  However, Cody was either ignoring him or hadn't heard him.  Sighing, Donovan entered the room and went upstairs.  He had had enough of the Nest today.  He wanted to linger only long enough to grab his car keys, and then he would go home.

Ennui hadn't actually been sleeping at all.  She had been laying in wait.  As soon as she heard the computer geek exit and Vigoureux enter, she brought her body up to a sitting position.  If she were to make a move at all, it would have to be right now.  She came out of 'hiding,' so to speak and stood waiting for him to come down.  She watched as he literally flew down the stairs.  He was in quite the hurry to leave.  The only thing that stopped him was Ennui.

He glared at her.  "What the fuck are you doing here," he demanded.

She smiled a little, but didn't immediately approach him.  "My guard for the night had to leave me here.  Your computer guy was here until you returned."

'It's your watch, Boss.'  Donovan groaned.  Why hadn't he understood that before?  Goddamn.  She would have to find another guard.  "You'll either stay here alone, or I'll have to arrange for another agent to come by.  I have no intention of being here with you."

She couldn't wait any longer.  She _had_ to approach him.  Ennui watched as Donovan stood his ground.  He didn't bother moving away.  She took it as a good sign.  "Your anger is warranted, Vigoureux, and I don't blame you.  But you cannot deny your feelings for me.  Your hostility is a sure sign that you still want me."

"Don't call me that again, Ms. Principio.  You are fucking cracked if you think I still want you.  You're mental," he growled.

She laid her hand on his arm, and he shook it off.  "Come on, Frank, you can't resist."

"If you touch me again," he said, "I'll cuff you to a chair and leave you here."

Ennui didn't reach out to him again, but instead, she tried something else.  She leaned toward him suddenly, her reflexes key.  Before he had the chance to back away, her lips were on his.  At the exact second her lips touched his, Loralei walked into the room.  Stunned and sickened by what she saw, she turned around abruptly and choked back a gut-wrenching sob.  Donovan took Ennui roughly by the arms and shoved her back.  It was then that he noticed his wife.  Not giving one ripe fuck about the witness, about anything else, Donovan went to Loralei and took her arm.

Loralei jerked her arm out of his grasp.  "_Don't you touch me_," she cried, "_Don't you dare touch me_."

"Loralei, baby, I didn't-"

She didn't give him a chance to utter another word.  "How could you do this to me, to us?  How could you, Frank?"  He reached for her again, but she planted her hand in the middle of his chest and shoved him back.  "I told you not to touch me," she said through her tears.

Donovan gritted his teeth in sheer rage as he watched her walk out.  He turned toward Ennui and noticed a victorious smile on her lips.  He stalked toward her and took hold of her upper arm.  None too gently, he shoved her back into the room where she had lain in wait.  Once he threw her forcefully inside, he locked the door.  He had to repair the damage before she left him.  Not since he tried to strangle Black Heart had he been so close to taking another life just for the joy of it.      


	7. A Troubled Mind

A TROUBLED MIND

Loralei had cried so much her stomach ached.  She went to Angie's apartment and asked if she would keep the baby for a few more hours.  The sitter agreed readily enough.  Loralei didn't want Rachel to see her so upset, because it would probably upset her.  Angie was curious as to why Loralei was so shaken up, but she didn't pry.  After promising the sitter that she would return in two hours, Loralei left to retrieve her car.  As she made her way down to the parking garage, her mind played over and over what she had just seen.  Watching her husband kissing another woman had cut her as deeply as a machete to the chest.  All along, her suspicions had been right on.  She wondered how long he had been fucking her.  She was certain it had begun before the woman came to them in the restaurant.  Of course, Donovan's reaction had begun to make sense now.  He was so very enraged because his lover showed up at an inopportune moment.  She realized why he had been so nonchalant and evasive.  She would go home, pack a few things, overnight in a hotel, and go back to Missouri for a few days.  Beyond that, she didn't know what she was going to do.  Before sticking her key into the car door, the thought of going home didn't sit well with her.  Wouldn't he simply follow her there and try to worm his way out of getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar?  He could not explain his way out of this no matter how hard he tried.  She could put up with his job, could handle the stress, but cheating was a different deal altogether.  She wouldn't tolerate it, wouldn't let it slide.  She could put up with a lot of shit, _had_ put up with a lot of shit, but she knew she didn't have to take this.  It still hurt.  It hurt so much that she thought she might lose her mind.

Donovan knew where he would find Loralei.  She dropped in on him without Rachel, so he figured he would find her at Angie's apartment building.  He took the stairs two at a time to get up to her apartment.  After banging on Angie's door impatiently, she came out and told him that Loralei had just left.  _Parking garage_, he thought, _but what fucking level_?  He ran back downstairs and took a chance choosing the level closest to Angie's apartment.  _Thank you, God_, he thought as he saw Loralei standing against her car, the door key stuck in the lock.  She stood staring down at the keys in a stupefied kind of gaze.  She had misunderstood, had seen something that was nothing, but he wasn't sure if she would believe it.  If he had walked in on her in the same situation, he might assume the worst as well.  He laid his hand on her shoulder and she turned toward him.  The moment he touched her, she knew it was he.  

"I told you not to touch me, you cheating bastard," she spat through clenched teeth.

He reached out for her again.  "Loralei, please listen to me."

She shook off his hands and slammed her thigh into his.  Enraged now, she began swinging at him.  Her tears blurred her vision and she didn't make contact with his face at all.  He dodged her hands easily.  Calmly and carefully, he took hold of her wrists and held them at bay.  She continued to struggle, cursing him vehemently.  Eventually, her adrenaline rush quickly abated, and her irrational anger began to quell.  At that point, the tears came again, and her struggle completely ended [but only for a moment while she regrouped].  He wanted to take her into his embrace and hold her.  When he made a move toward doing that, she came alive again and managed to escape the steel vise of his grip.  He wasn't sure if she would listen to him like this, if she _could _listen.  She almost escaped him completely, but he was fast.  He took hold of her again and had no choice but to subdue her.  One way or another, she would damn well listen to him.  With her back facing him, he pinned her body against the car and held her hands behind her back as if he were apprehending and cuffing a suspect.  However, the only difference was that he was ten times gentler with her.  He rested his cheek against the side of her head so that every word he spoke would drift directly into her ear.  Otherwise, she wouldn't hear anything he said.

"I know you're angry and hurt right now, and I can understand.  Let me explain.  When I'm finished, if you still want to leave, I'll let you go."  

She couldn't speak, couldn't spit out two words.  Her throat was stuffed and choked with sobs waiting to be released.  For all her anger and hurt, she loved the bastard.  At that moment, she didn't want him touching her at all, but she couldn't break free of his hold.  Instead of speaking, she tried to move her head away from his so she wouldn't have to listen to a lie.  Again, he held fast.

"This woman, this bitch whose name I cannot even speak anymore, is deluded.  She thinks she can erase what she did and elbow you out of the picture and insert herself.  I have told her repeatedly that she is nothing to me, and she isn't.  I didn't kiss her, Loralei.  She kissed me.  The thought of kissing her makes me ill.  You turned away before you saw me shove her back.  I don't want her, Loralei.  I _never_ wanted her.  I only want you.  Do you understand?"

His words made perfect sense, but did she believe it?  _Did she_?  "I don't…don't believe you.  You freaked out when you saw her at the restaurant, you won't answer any questions I ask about her, you have been so distracted that I can't even talk to you anymore.  I had to go to Farron to find out your connection to her.  I know you were engaged, know how she came into your life.  You didn't…didn't just…throw her away.  I betrayed you too, Frank, don't you remember?  I lied to you, hurt you, and made you feel as if I used you to advance my pathetic FBI career.  You didn't throw _me_ away.  Why would you throw _her_ away?"

He closed his eyes for a moment.  "It was different with you.  I didn't throw you away because I love you.  Yes, I loved her, _once_, but never as much as I love you.  It was never meant to be with her and I; I just didn't see it until she betrayed me.  With you, the instant I laid eyes on you, I knew."

She was stubborn and wasn't convinced.  The image of her husband kissing that woman played in her mind over and over.  "Goddamn it, Frank," she spat angrily.  "You've been so distracted since this whole mess started.  You have virtually ignored me, for God's sake.  I've been trying to tell you for a week or more that I'm pregnant, but you have had your nose stuck so far up this bitch's ass, that you couldn't even talk to me for five minutes.  What am I supposed to think?"  Angered, she didn't realize that she had let the cat out of the bag.

The wind knocked out of his sails for a moment, he nearly lost his grip on her body.  He rebounded quickly.  "What did you say," he asked, unsure if he had heard the word 'pregnant' or if he had imagined it.

She hadn't intended to let it slip out in such a way, but since she had, she couldn't deny it now.  "I'm pregnant, you bastard," she spat.  "You didn't know, you didn't even suspect it.  You were too involved with this case, this _woman_.  If you had been paying attention, you would've known, you would have suspected it.  You knew the first time.  Why didn't you know now?  You were distracted by _her_."

Inwardly, he groaned.  She had dropped dozens of hints, but he hadn't picked up on one.  She was right; he had been too preoccupied to notice.  He understood why she had gotten so defensive when he had made that stupid comment about their 'one-year plan.'  He was torn between extreme joy and terrible grief.  He had hurt her and had been completely and totally oblivious.  "Come with me," he said as he pulled back and took hold of her hand.  "Come with me and I'll give you the proof you need."

Grudgingly, she followed him back to the Nest.  She had tried to get away again, but he held onto her.  He would not allow Loralei to leave until the viperous hag told her the truth.  The unexpected news would be discussed later, when she was convinced.  When they entered the office, Donovan didn't want to let go of Loralei's body, but there would be no other way to unlock the other door if he didn't.

"Please stay," he said.  

Although she had no desire to honor his request, she stood absolutely still and watched as he let himself inside the small room in the corner.  A moment later, she heard an indignant cry, followed by Donovan's command [_Get up and tell the truth for once in your life_].  With her struggling all the way, Donovan dragged Ennui into the room and forced her to face his wife.  At that moment, Loralei was ever so tempted to put her foot up the bitch's ass.

"_Tell her_," Donovan demanded through clenched teeth.

"I'll tell her nothing," Ennui spat.

"If you don't want to wind up in the hands of your pimp, you will tell her," he spat furiously.  "Tell my wife what you did.  _Fucking tell her_."

Ennui literally stared through Loralei, thinking of her as competition, competition she would never defeat.  "_I_ kissed him.  He didn't want me," she spat.

With that said, he put Ennui back into the room and locked her in.  Once the deed was done for the second time, he stood and beheld his wife.  "She is nothing to me," he repeated.  "I never wanted to talk about her because she was a part of my past, a past I have put behind me.  I wasn't avoiding talking about her; I just don't care enough, Loralei.  In fact, she was so insignificant that I haven't thought about her in years.  Not once did I even _think_ of touching her.  In my lifetime, you're the only woman I will ever want.  No matter how distracted I become or how evasive I seem, don't ever doubt that."

She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand.  "I want to go," she said quietly.  "I don't want to be here anymore."

He noticed that she had yet to let him know whether or not she believed him.  He was totally unable to read her at all.  She was hurt so badly, and he had played right into it, contributing more than his fair share of grief.  There was still so much they needed to talk about, to straighten out.  The tone of her voice worried him.  It was flat, emotionless.  What would he have to do?  He would have to voice the question that disturbed him most.  "Loralei, when I get home, you'll be there, won't you?"

"I don't know," she said.  "It doesn't mean I don't believe you," she said softly, "it just means that I have to be alone, I have to let this all sink in.  When you see your spouse, the person you love, kissing another, it does something to you.  It destroys you inside.  It doesn't matter if you kissed her or she kissed you, I know what I saw, and I…I have to reconcile it in my head before I can even _digest_ everything that has happened tonight."

Donovan said nothing as he watched her turn away and leave.  He was angry with himself, enraged at Ennui, and completely defeated inside.  He didn't want to go through another scary dry spell like the one they had when Loralei went back to the FBI.  Another factor weighed heavily on his mind as well.  She was pregnant, had tried numerous times to tell him, but he hadn't heard a word, hadn't taken one tiny hint.  He growled and turned away from the door.  She wasn't coming back.  Again, he was tempted to stalk up to Ennui and shove the engagement ring down her throat.  What was worse, he couldn't leave.  Once again, he was bound by duty, tied down by ethics.  If she left him, he didn't know what he would do.  Frustrated, he darted upstairs to call the regional office.  Someone _would_ retrieve the bitch, he didn't care whom.  He would turn her over to a fucking janitor just to get her out of his sight.

It took more than an hour for Donovan to find someone who would pick up Ennui.  In between phone calls to various agents here and there, he called home.  His wife never answered.  Of course, it didn't necessary mean that she had gone, but he couldn't kid himself.  He saw her; saw the look in her eyes.  She was gone.  He went back downstairs when the agent arrived.  As he opened the door to let her out, he fixed a murderous gaze on her.  If Huete didn't take her out, he might.  The smug look on her face drove him over the edge, and his hand itched to slap her.  For the second time, the bitch had ruined his life, and he would make the remainder of hers hell.  Some way, some how, he would do it or die trying.

*  *  *

It was full on dark when Donovan finally managed to leave.  On the drive home, he was distracted [_this is what started it all, goddamn it_].  A couple of times, he nearly drove off the road.  As he turned into the long driveway, he dreaded the idea of walking into the empty house.  However, what he saw stunned him enough where his jaw literally dropped open.  Loralei's car was parked in its usual spot under the covered carport.  _Thank God, thank God, thank God_, he thought.  When he entered the house a few minutes later, there wasn't a light on anywhere, and his relief quickly became worry again.  Just because her car was parked outside didn't necessarily mean she was there.  While he had been fighting with the FBI, someone could have easily picked her up and taken her wherever she wanted to go.  With the same determination he exhibited to ruin Ennui's life, he was even more determined to find Loralei, whatever the cost.  He climbed upstairs and stopped at Rachel's room.  She was gone.  Shaking his head and sighing heavily, he moved down the hall to the bedroom door.  Perhaps he could find something there that would give him an idea where she had gone.  As he creaked open the door, a small hint of a smile touched his lips.  He clearly identified two silhouette shapes huddled together on the bed.  One was an adult and the other a baby.  He let out yet another relieved breath.

When Donovan moved closer, he saw that Loralei was lying on her side with the baby huddled closely against her, her tiny head nearly under Loralei's chin.  Both of them were asleep.  After kicking off his shoes, he climbed onto the bed behind his wife, once again leaning his head against hers.  For a long moment, he luxuriated in her smell, the same sweet, sweet strawberry fragrance that had seduced his senses from day one.  He moved only when he felt her stir.  Unsure of what her reaction would be, he drew back a little, propping up on his elbow.  He wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if she slugged him.  Actually, he wouldn't blame her if she did.  All he knew was that she had stayed, had come back, and to him, that meant everything in the world.

She turned her head slightly, and gazed up at him briefly before shifting position [mindful of the baby] to lie on her back.  She didn't speak or reach out to smack him as he expected.  Instead, she leaned up and kissed him ever so gently.  His heart literally began to soar as he took her into his arms and held her against him, their bodies drifting back down to the bed; his over hers.  He had been so afraid that she wouldn't believe him, that she would leave, but she had surprised him yet again.

Loralei drew away for a moment.  There was something else weighing on her mind.  They hadn't had a chance to broach the subject, and she needed to know where he stood.  In all the drama, she wondered if he had forgotten.  "Frank?  The-"

He placed a finger over her lips briefly to shush her.  "The baby?"  He leaned down to kiss her just as softly as she had kissed him earlier.  When he pulled away, he placed his hand onto her flat abdomen and began a gentle caress.  "I'm sorry I made you feel as if I wouldn't be happy.  When you gave me Rachel, I had never felt so overjoyed or so loved, and I thought no other feeling could compare.  I was wrong.  I'm feeling it again right now, stronger than ever.  You're giving me another child, another reason to love you more than I did before."

She still had her doubts.  "What…what about-"

He shushed her again.  "So Rachel is only nine months old.  It just means that she and her sister or brother will be close in age.  Big deal.  I say a lot of stupid shit sometimes, Loralei.  I frequently put my foot in my mouth.  You know this; I think I've told you before.  None of it matters now, _none_.  I can't say I'm not surprised, that would be a lie, but I'm also incredibly, incredibly thrilled."  She went into his arms and held onto him tightly.  After a moment, he thought he heard her crying.  When he drew away, he saw the evidence sliding down her cheeks.  "Oh no," he cried, his voice cracking, "they're baaaaaaack."

Loralei buried her face in her secure spot.  She placed a moist kiss on his neck.  "Fuck off, FD," she said against his skin.

*  *  *

Ennui sat in her secure hotel suite with her tawny eyes fixed on the wall.  Absently she twirled the engagement ring as if it were the world's smallest hoola hoop.  She had set about trying to destroy Donovan's marriage tonight, and she wasn't sure she had succeeded.  He had forced her to confess to his wife, but she didn't appear convinced of his innocence in the matter.  However, one thing was plain to her now.  Donovan had no intention of becoming involved with her again.  Even if his wife left him, she knew he wouldn't come to her.  The look in his eyes wasn't plain old hostility that equaled passion.  He _hated_ her, he wanted to kill her.  She didn't know if she could take his rejection lying down.  When she first saw him upon her return to Chicago, she had no doubt that he would come back to her.  She discovered he had a wife and child, but that was no obstacle to her.  She could stir up trouble with the best of them, and had no doubt that she could draw him away.  She had been wrong, had sorely misjudged him.  He would never leave his wife for her; never glance at her again with one of his panty-dropping heated gazes.  It was all reserved for his wife now, never to be hers again.  What other choices did she have?  She could walk away quietly, completely disappear never to resurface again, or she could take steps to permanently end Donovan's marriage.  Scarily enough, she had almost the same mind-set as Kelly Bartlet so many years before her.  By God, if she couldn't have him, no one would. 

That night as Frank Donovan made love to his wife as Farron Donovan made love to nobody; Ennui Principio came out of her room.  Her 'alert' FBI agent was passed out on the couch.  She had doctored a drink earlier and used her charm to convince him to loosen up and drink it.  Of course, it had done its work well.  She went over to the prone body of the man and slapped him as hard as she could.  He merely grunted, but didn't awaken.  Good.  She took his car keys, cell phone, and service revolver.  She would probably need them all before the night was over.  If she walked in where she was going unarmed, she would be shot down like a defenseless deer.  She knew exactly where to go, where to find him, and she was set to betray Frank Donovan once again.


	8. Double Trouble

Ms. Dreamy, parts of this chapter are for YOU!!!!

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DOUBLE TROUBLE

Alca Huete had his own hideout in Chicago.  It was actually in a high-rise apartment building.  He had a penthouse suite, of course.  He wouldn't settle for anything less than that.  He hadn't made all his money by peddling flesh and he was still into trafficking, but he normally used his girls to do all the dirty work.  Most of them were so strung out, they weren't able to squeal.  By the time they withdrew from cocaine, he would slip back into their lives, and tempt them again.  Of course, the girls always came back, and the cycle began again.  The girls would continue to prostitute themselves; he would pay them in cocaine, and force them to traffic for him.  It was perfect.  At this point, he felt as if he would never go down.  The Ortiz gang would have survived if they hadn't relied solely on Dominguez and Luis.  They should have dealt in flesh as well, and Ortiz would still be a free man.  Ah well, like it mattered.  

Huete was happy to be in the states again.  He had been here once before, but slipped out of town after being picked up on a rape charge.  He had slipped away while on bail, changed his appearance a bit, and laid low.  It was during that time that his former _hermano_ introduced him to Primera.  She was exquisitely lovely and exotic.  He knew that Mateo and the women were sleeping together, but neither seemed entirely interested in the other.  It was plainly a physical thing.  Huete had been the man who introduced her to the numbing effects of cocaine.  She became addicted very quickly and began stealing from the gang.  He had ordered her shot, but a strange twist of fate had prevented her death.  She had slept with his assassin and begged for her life.  He paid her with cocaine from his personal stash.  When he heard, a wonder idea sprang into his head.  Flesh for coke, flesh for cash, whores to become mules…ah…beautiful.  His first recruit, his _best_ recruit was the biggest mule of them all.  She brought the women in, she kept his mission alive, and he paid her well.  Unfortunately for him [and her as well], she had left, had slipped away from South America to parts unknown to him.  He often wondered if she had gone in search of Mateo.  But then, that didn't seem right, either.  She didn't care for Mateo that much.  Wherever she was, he wanted to find her.  She would either submit to his demands or he would kill her.  It was as simple as that.  Primera belonged to no one else but him.  He glanced at the clock and noticed the hour.  It was time to go out hunting again for a fresh crop of women.  Perhaps he would run into Primera.  Wouldn't that be lovely?

*  *  *

Farron Donovan could not sleep.  He knew he should have been exhausted, but he wasn't.  He had fallen into an uncomfortable nap on Kara's couch.  They had spent so much time talking; he had never spoken that much in his life.  She had been shocked by his confession that he dealt in drugs, and he was afraid she would send him away.  After all, it seemed as if they were such different people.  However, she did not ask him to leave.  She accepted it as his 'past,' and didn't blink an eye.  Farron had never met anyone like her before.  Kara eventually invited him to spend the night, and he had agreed readily enough.  However, the night didn't exactly go as one would have thought.  It was somewhat standard for Farron to want to sleep with her, but he held back.  At first, they had begun talking and before he knew it, they were down on the couch, feeling each other up.  With extreme self-control, Farron withdrew from her.  Her eyes were literally begging him to make love to her again, but he wouldn't.  He wouldn't use her; he wanted to know her, to get inside her heart and mind before he ever made love to her again.  

Although he had decided to turn over a new leaf, so to speak, he wasn't a choirboy by any stretch of the imagination.  He asked her to take him to her bedroom.  She was certain they would make love again, but he didn't have that on his mind [not exactly, anyway].  He instructed her to go into the bathroom and strip down to her underwear.  She followed his instructions to the letter, shaking the entire time.  Once she reentered the bedroom, the sight of her made his blood boil and groin ache.  This would be so hard.  He told her to get down on the bed and to lie on her stomach.  She smiled a little, thinking that he had something kinky in mind, but she again followed his instructions without a thought.  He had then leaned beside her, kneeling, and moved her hair away from her neck.  After placing a gentle kiss between her shoulders, he moved away a bit.

"Do you have a middle name," he asked suddenly.

_What a bizarre question.  I'm lying here, waiting for him to strip out of his clothes, and he wants to know my middle name?_  "Yes," she said, "it's Michelle.  Why do you ask?"

He smiled.  "Ah.  Michelle.  Very good."  His hands fell on her shoulders and his large hands began kneading them with force, but not enough to hurt her, just enough to soothe her.  "I enjoy giving women nicknames.  Do you mind if I call you Shel?"

She liked the sound of that.  In fact, he could probably call her 'poopie-kaka' and she wouldn't have minded.  His hands felt like heaven.  She suddenly wanted them all over her.  "Sure," she said, "that's nice."

"Wonderful," he said softly, "I want you to relax and think of nothing but my hands.  When I want you to move, I'll ask.  Okay?"

"Mmm hmmm," she sighed.

His hands moved away from her neck and shoulders and progressed down the slope of her back.  She didn't know where he had learned this skill, but he was damn good at it.  She found herself relaxing immensely, and she closed her eyes, only concentrating on the feel of his hands just as he had said.  The only sound that erupted out of her at all was when both of his hands went to her sides.  She gasped a little at the tender stroking motion.  Kara was extremely ticklish in that area, and she didn't want to laugh at him.  She bit down hard on her lip as he caressed, kneaded, and squeezed.  If he didn't move away soon, she wouldn't be able to stay still much longer.  He must have sensed this was a sensitive spot, but he didn't hurry to move away.  Smiling a little, he could hear the soft grunt emitting from her lips at each touch.  Deciding to suspend the torture [for the moment], he allowed his hands to move lower to the small of her back.  She began to relax again and hoped he didn't touch her ass.  If he touched her ass, she'd die.  Of course, Farron wasn't an idiot.  He ignored all erogenous zones.  He wanted to pleasure her, but not in a sexual way.  Not yet.  Not tonight.  

As his hands moved down to her legs, he found himself wishing he had brought in some lotion.  Ah well.  It was a sensual addition, but not necessary.  By the time he progressed to her feet, she groaned a little and bit her lip again.  He was so cruel to do this to her, and he had yet to touch her other side at all.  _Dear Lord, I hope I live through this_, she thought.

"Shel," he whispered, "turn to your back."

She sighed a little.  His soft whisper tickled her as much as his roaming hands.  She loved the sound of her name leaving his lips.  Without hesitation, she turned to her back and waited expectantly.  Her nipples were straining desperately against the lace of her bra, and she was aching way far down below her waist.  Instead of progressing from top to bottom as he had done with her back, he used his lips instead.  They touched her eyelids, nose, lips, chin, and then her neck.  He placed a gentle kiss in the valley between her breasts, but he didn't touch them.  His lips went past her heaving breasts and fell upon her ribcage.  He ran his tongue along her ribs as if they were a xylophone.  She shuddered and whispered a phrase he hadn't yet heard her say:  'ah, fuck.'  His tongue moved down the slope of her abdomen before dipping briefly into her navel.  Her back arched against him, presenting more of her body to his wandering lips and tongue.  He avoided yet another erogenous zone and allowed his lips to caress her upper thighs, then her knees, then the calves of her legs, before moving to her feet.  He placed gentle kisses on each toe.  By then, she was whimpering, undulating against the bed.  If he didn't make love to her, she thought she might go mad.

"Please, oh please, don't do this to me," she begged.  "I _need_ you, I _want_ you," she said with a sigh.

He followed the same trail up as he made on his way down and ended with a soft kiss on her lips.  She wanted more, but he drew away.  "No, Shel," he said.  "I won't make love to you until it feels right.  Lay back and let me touch you, let me show you pleasure without making love."  How could she argue?

Farron smiled a little as he thought back to what had transpired between them.  She had begged him, pleaded with him to make love to her, but he held back.  The shift in his life was a pleasant feeling.  It was something he had never experienced before.  Of course, he wasn't aware that he had enemies scheming against him, against his happiness, and his brother.  

*  *  *

Every Colombian _jefe_ had a right hand man.  Of course, Huete was no exception.  His _hermano_ was Enfermo Torcido [Fermo for short].  He was the best man Huete had on his team.  Of course, he was also the cruelest.  Torcido was usually the first man in the gang to get a taste of the new girls brought in.  Occasionally, he kept a girl around for a few weeks until he literally wore her out.  When that happened, he would take the poor addled girl to a secluded spot and shoot her between the eyes.  More than a few had been carrying his child at the time of their deaths.  A gentle man he was not, but that didn't matter.  Huete trusted him with his life.  He didn't have to keep looking over his shoulder while Torcido was present.  If Torcido wanted something, he didn't steal it, he simply asked and his wish was granted.  It was how he ended up with his own woman from time-to-time.

"Many pardons, Alca," Torcido began.  His _jefe_ had his hand underneath the skirt of one of the new girls.  She barely noticed.  All she wanted was another hit, he could stick his finger up her nose, and she wouldn't care, not as long as she received her candy.  "You have an interesting visitor."

Alca smiled as he grabbed the girl's breast.  He gave it a hard squeeze and licked the side of her cheek.  "More interesting than this?  I will send her to you tonight.  She is quite…good."

Torcido nodded.  "Oh yes, _jefe_.  When you see her, you'll be very happy.  Primera has returned to you."

Roughly, he shoved the dazed whore off his lap.  She fell to the floor with a soft thud.  Only partially stunned, she gazed up at her pimp and waited to be paid.  "Take her now, Fermo.  Bring Primera to me.  Bring her _now_."

Torcido grabbed the girl's arm and literally dragged her out of the room.  After a moment, he brought Primera in.  He was gentler with her than the girl.  He wouldn't rough her up, not in front of Huete.  Primera was special to him.  Huete's first impulse was to have her taken out and shot, but something about her expression stopped him.  She didn't appear scared or nervous.  She was almost…smug.  Her expression held his interest, and he wanted to hear her out before he murdered her.

Once he asked Torcido to leave, he demanded, "Why do you come here, Primera?" 

"My dear Alca," she said.  "Your operation will soon be infiltrated by the FBI.  I know you remember Mateo, don't you?  Have you heard of Frank Donovan?  Most men in your position have.  Mateo's name is really Farron Donovan, and he is Frank's twin brother.  I know this, because both men were my lovers.  Frank has a specialized team, and he's sending in a female agent to pretend she's a cocaine addict.  You might wonder how I know this?  Well, darling, I was there for it all."

Huete was furious.  "And how do I know that your being here isn't part of the act?"

"Up until I broke free, I was your prime whore catcher, Alca.  I worked for you many years, giving up much of my life.  You can choose to trust me, or you can choose to kill me.  Either way, you're going to be invaded by Frank and his merry band of FBI vagabonds.  I can tell you who's coming and what they'll be doing.  I don't care what you do to the agent; kill her, fuck her; give her to Torcido for all I care.  Frank has a wife and a baby daughter; I can probably find them for you as well.  Again, I don't care what you do to them or what happens.  My only concern is Frank.  I want Frank Donovan.  I want him reserved specifically for me.  Will you help me like I'm helping you?"

He considered it for approximately five seconds.  "What do you think, Primera?  I will work with you on this; I will let you take Frank Donovan.  But you must be punished for what you did to me.  You left the fold, left me high and dry.  Your punishment is a night with Torcido.  If you endure it, I'll do everything in my power to help you get Donovan."

A night with Enfermo Torcido was like a night in a torture device.  The state of her body the next day would be horrendous.  Torcido liked to bite and he had an affinity for unnatural sex acts.  He refused to wear condoms, and she wasn't sure how many deadly diseases he had contracted through the years.  Even with all that, she still wanted Frank, still wanted him so badly, she could taste it.  "I will be his punching bag for the night."

Huete smiled.  The girl had spirit.  He offered her a tiny brown vial of cocaine.  "Would you like some of this before you go to him?  It might help."

"Tempting as it is, I must refuse.  I don't want to be under the influence of any substance when I take Donovan's life.  Call your friend, Alca, tell him he has a whore."

*  *  *

Donovan couldn't sleep.  Tomorrow night would see the group on the streets of skid row Chicago as Alex posed as a crack-addicted prostitute.  Of course, they weren't sure if Huete's gang would spot her or even care about her.  According to the bitch [Donovan refused to utter her name], Huete preferred much younger girls, teenagers, and no one could mistake Alex for a teenager.  He would be glad to see it all end.  He wasn't comfortable working near the bitch, because he didn't quite trust her.  He knew she hadn't been an evil person in the past, but she was a totally different person now.  She had tried to destroy his marriage, and he didn't doubt she would work on destroying _him_.  He had felt uneasy before a big showdown hundreds of times, but something seemed a bit more out of place, and he couldn't immediately put his finger on it.  It had more to do with the bitch than anything.  She had a forked tongue, and he thought he might need to put a tail on her for a few days.  They could make no mistakes.

Loralei awoke and noticed that her husband had his hands leaned against the window frame.  There was little light filtering in through the window, and she couldn't see his face, but his body language indicated that he was disturbed.  "Frank?  Are you okay?"

He turned toward the bed.  She could see his silhouette nodding.  "Yes, I'm fine.  I just couldn't sleep."

"Is there anything I can do," she asked.

He smiled a little and shook his head.  "Nope.  I'm preoccupied, as you well know.  We must use the bitch for her knowledge, but I'm not altogether sure we can trust her.  She's a viper and her venom has already touched us, and now it's reaching out for everything else I hold dear."

She sighed.  "Frank, I know this is a long shot, but why don't you try thinking of something else for now?  I know it won't be easy, but you have to separate the shit.  I've seen you do it a thousand times with a thousand other cases.  This one isn't any different, it just involves a woman you once loved, but now hate.  You are now forced to put your trust in her, a trust she betrayed before.  Let it go, at least when you're away from her."

Donovan realized that she was right.  She had kicked his ass back in shape yet again.  He moved toward the bed and climbed in beside her.  He held her close against him and fingered her hair.  "So, how about another distraction?  This is one totally outside the realm of the bitch."

"Okay," she said.  Her finger began to trace delicate lines across his chest.  "I'm game."

"This new kid," he said suddenly, "When did you find out?"

She smiled a little.  She wondered when he was going to ask that.  "I did an EPT the Sunday following the party, and it was positive.  We'd had false positives before, so I didn't really think anything.  I mean, I was suspicious.  I'd had morning sickness for a couple of days and noticed I was late, but never thought seriously I was pregnant.  But if you notice, I didn't exactly drink as much as it seemed.  Mostly, I was acting stupid."

Her words struck him a little.  How much had she drunk?  "Wait a minute," he said.  "That morning when you were sick, that wasn't a hangover?" 

"No duh," she spat.  "That's what prompted me to go through with the EPT.  It happened a couple of times, but I conveniently hid from you.  No one knew…well…that's not true.  Alex caught me doing the EPT."

"I knew it.  I knew she knew something.  She tried to push me to go home the night we attempted to have dinner.  Jesus, where the hell was I?"

"You drifted, but that's okay.  You know now, that's the important thing."

"How far along?"

"Probably six weeks by now, four when I saw the doctor.  What do you want this time," she asked.

He smiled wickedly.  "Twins."

"You would," she said, a trace of forced annoyance in her voice.  "If you impregnated me with twins, I swear, I will perform a vasectomy on you myself."

He kissed her gently.  "Ow, kinky."

*  *  *

Much, much later, Loralei drifted off to sleep, but Donovan did not.  Regardless of their intimate banter a few hours ago, he still felt uneasy and preoccupied.  Something was going to happen.  Something bad.       


	9. Troubling News

TROUBLING NEWS

Loralei awoke to the indignant wail of her daughter.  She sat up immediately and noticed that Donovan wasn't in bed beside her.  She figured he had gone to tend to Rachel.  However, Rachel's cries weren't getting any softer, they were getting louder.  If he was in with Rachel already, then why was she still raising such a fuss?  Was she sick?  Loralei climbed out of bed and slipped into her robe.  She went to Rachel's bedroom, expecting to find her husband trying to calm the infant.  He wasn't in the room at all.  She took the baby into her arms and began soothing her.  She didn't need changing, but _something_ had awakened her.  It was still dark outside, and she wondered if Donovan had been called out.  She shook her head.  If he had gotten a call, he would have told her before leaving.  It was just something he _did_.  It took about fifteen minutes to coax Rachel back to sleep.  Carefully, Loralei laid her back down and then left the bedroom.  She went downstairs and noticed that Donovan's key ring was missing.  She popped on the porch light and saw that his car was gone.  He had left at this hour without telling her?  It wasn't like him; it wasn't like him at all.  She went back up to the bedroom and dialed his cell phone.  It rang three times before his voice mail kicked on.  She hung up without leaving a message.  What in the hell was going on?  She thought that after the confusion with the bitch had gone away, she wouldn't have had to feel so confused and unsettled.  Sighing, she went back to bed and fell into a fitful sleep.

"Goddamn," a voice said stiffly.  "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow."

She came awake slowly, wondering if the voice she heard was in her dream.  The sun had finally risen, and she could plainly see her husband standing in the bedroom bathroom.  It appeared as if he were doctoring his hand.  She sat up in confusion and watched as he put a gauze pad over his knuckles, hissing in pain as he did it.  What the hell?  She slipped out of bed and approached the bathroom.  She leaned in the doorway and watched him curiously.  He had yet to notice her, he seemed totally distracted by his injured hand.  Only when he glanced up into the mirror did he see her standing at the door.  The dark circles under his eyes stood out like accusatory fingers.  Had he slept at all last night?

"Are you okay," he asked as he gazed at her through the mirror.

She nodded.  "Fine, for now.  The morning sickness thing usually starts a bit later.  I should be asking you if _you're_ okay.  What did you do to your hand?"

He shook his head.  "Nothing, just something stupid."

Loralei approached him from behind and placed her hand on his back.  "Baby, did you sleep last night?"

"A little," he lied.  He actually hadn't slept at all, but he wouldn't tell her.  She didn't need any undue worry.  "I'll be okay.  I'll have Cody make the coffee today," he said with a smile.  She stepped back as he turned toward her.  He hugged her and placed a gentle kiss on her ear.  "I love you," he said.

*  *  *

Ennui Principio was due at UC headquarters at nine, but she wasn't certain she could go in.  She stood in her hotel suite examining the damage done to her face and body.  The cruel fucker had nearly broken her cheekbone with his fist.  It was bruised and very sore to the touch.  If a puff of air hit it, she winced.  She examined the bites that were scattered here and there on her body.  There were three on her ass, one on her left shoulder, and another just under her right breast.  That one had really hurt, and she had been afraid the bleeding would never stop.  However, it did, it finally did after a scary thirty minutes.  While she bled, he continued to beat her mercilessly.  She had tried to be a more than willing bed partner, but he didn't like willing.  He liked to fight and rape.  He had taken her with force three or four times.  She was probably bruised between her thighs as well.  The one spot on her cheek was the only visible damage.  Her clothing would cover everything else.  She knew she must go to the Nest to fulfill her desires, but she had never gone anywhere when she couldn't look her best.  If they saw her, they would know she had been beaten.  Perhaps they _should _know.  Perhaps her protector in the other room should know as well.  As soon as she heard him stir, she would present herself.  As if reading her mind, she heard faint movement from the other room.  She opened the door, peeked out, and was met by his startled gasp.

*  *  *

Donovan was running late.  He had lain down for what he intended to be a short nap, but he had actually fallen deeply asleep.  He had set the alarm, but Loralei had purposely shut it off.  He couldn't be angry with her, because she was simply looking out for him, taking care of him.  As he made his way toward the office, he noticed a couple of police cruisers parked on the side of the street.  He didn't give them a second glance.  Police cruisers were commonplace in this crowded area of town.  He made his way inside, intent on getting the show on the road.  Before he entered the belly of the Nest, he heard several voices he didn't recognize mingled with his group of agents.  Amongst all the heated talking was the voice of the bitch.  He could hear her sobbing miserably, speaking incoherently.  What the fuck had happened now?  It wasn't that he gave a shit one way or another, but he didn't appreciate the distraction from the job at hand.  When he finally came in plain view of the crowd gathered around the conference table, he was a little stunned in spite of himself.  From the looks of it, someone had beaten up the bitch.  She was sobbing uncontrollably, declaring that she had been bitten, beaten, and raped repeatedly.  She looked toward Donovan and began to scream, to shrink away from his presence.  She begged the police officers to protect her from 'that maniac.'  She had pointed an accusatory finger at him.  What the fuck?  At the same time, he felt the eyes of his agents studying him, curiously at first, but then suspiciously, as they noticed his injured hand.

In an aghast sort of horror, he watched as the cops slowly left the bitch's side and began approaching him.  What did they think they were doing?  He hadn't laid one finger on her.  He heard the absurd words that he would have to accompany the police back to the precinct for questioning.  Dazed, he listened as he was read his rights.  All the while, the bitch kept wailing and screaming, calling him a rapist.  Surely, this was a mistake; this was some type of horrible mistake.  The cops approached him carefully.  They were aware of his status and training, and Donovan appeared ready to fight, and he was.  It took both of them to subdue him enough where they could handcuff him.  This had to be some type of nightmare.  Yes.  That's what it was.  He would wake up soon, wake up and not have to face this, not have to see the suspicious looks on the faces of the team.  

*  *  *

Frank Donovan was losing his patience.  He had been sitting in an interrogation room for what seemed like forever, telling the same story over and over again.  He hadn't touched the bitch.  Yes, he was angry with her.  Yes, he hated her.  No, he didn't rape her.  No, he didn't beat her.  No, it wasn't his teeth that made those bite marks.  Yes, he had an alibi.  Yes, he had hurt his hand.  No, he hadn't hurt it beating the bitch.  At one point, he had demanded they either arrest him or release him.  Apparently, the bitch had told her FBI bodyguard that she had snuck out in the night to meet him at an undisclosed location.  She claimed that once she arrived, he had assaulted her after she refused to sleep with him.  It was completely preposterous.  He had been at home with his wife the whole time.  Yet, that wasn't exactly true, was it?  There was a space of time that he hadn't been home.  However, he had gone nowhere near the bitch.  Could he prove it?  Absolutely not, but he would never, _could_ never assault her neither physically nor sexually.  

Although innocent of this hideous crime, he had no trouble submitting to blood and DNA tests.  He gave them the contact information of his dentist so they could secure his dental records.  He also volunteered to take a lie detector test and passed with flying colors.  The Chicago police didn't put much credence into it.  After all, Frank Donovan was a very controlled man, and might be able to trip up a lie detector.  He had nothing to fear, nothing to hide.  Just when he thought the police were finished with him, they began the interrogation again.  When would they allow him to leave?  He thought of his wife, and wondered if she knew about this yet.  What would she think?  What would she do?  Dear God, he wanted out of here.  Fifteen minutes into the fresh round of questioning, bad news had been passed down to him.  He was suspended without further notice until the charges were settled.

*  *  *

Loralei was surprised to see Alex in the middle of the day.  At first, she had been pleasantly surprised to see her friend, but the instant she noticed the somber look on her face, her smile died quickly.  The first thought that entered her mind was that something had happened to Donovan.  Was he hurt?  Dead?  What?  What?  What?

"You'd better sit down," Alex told her.

"_No_," she spat.  "I will _not_."  She stood back with her arms crossed over her chest.  "What is it?  Is something wrong?  Did something happen to Frank?  Goddamn it, tell me!"

Alex sighed.  She hated breaking this to her, because she didn't even understand what was going on.  "Ennui Principio showed up at the Nest today.  She was beaten and bruised up.  She said Donovan did it.  The police took him for questioning.  I don't know if he's been charged or not, but Shoemaker suspended him indefinitely."

"That's the most fucking stupid bunch of _shit_ I've ever heard," she yelled.  

She placed her hand on Loralei's shoulder.  "Was he with you all night?"

Loralei almost shouted out a petulant 'yes,' but he _hadn't_ been with her all night, had he?  She had seen him in the bathroom earlier that morning wrapping up his hand.  He hadn't really explained how he had hurt it.  She wasn't certain how long he had been gone.  She shook her head.  No.  This couldn't be true.  He couldn't have done this, he _couldn't_ have.  Screw them.  Screw them all.  She _refused _to believe it until she saw some definite, solid proof in front of her.  She wasn't ready to take the word of some scummy whore over that of her husband.  She said nothing further to Alex.  Instead, she ran upstairs, secured a sitter for Rachel, and flew out the door.

*  *  *

The police made it clear that they would release Donovan today, but that he needn't make any travel plans.  As soon as the DNA tests came back, they would then decide if they would charge him.  The bitch hadn't wanted to press charges, but it wouldn't stop the prosecuting attorney to do it on her behalf.  Enraged to the point of nearly screaming at the top of his lungs, he allowed a beefy police officer to lead him out with little fuss.  He noticed Loralei immediately.  How the hell did she find out about this?  She didn't need the stress or the shock.  It was a deadly mix for a pregnant woman.  She had already been crying and he could see her wringing her hands nervously.  Without a word, he took her by the arm and led her out of the crowded precinct.  Once both of them were inside the car, he went into her comforting embrace.  Goddamn.  When would the craziness end?  When would it be over?  He drew away from her after a very long time.  Rage was clearly painted on his face.  She wanted to talk about it, but he had no desire to go into it parked in front of the precinct.  

Once at home, Donovan went to the kitchen and took a stiff shot of bourbon.  It was the only thing he could find that would settle his nerves.  She went to him and held him again.  "You don't believe I did this, do you," he asked.

She drew away.  "No," she spat incredulously.  "No, Frank.  I don't believe you did this.  How could I?"

He gazed at her helplessly, wondering why she was the only person who hadn't looked upon him suspiciously.  She was the person closest to him, and if anyone had a right to be suspicious, it was she.  "Don't you care to know where I was?  How I hurt my hand?"

She shook her head.  "Only if you choose to tell me, Frank.  I can't say I don't care to know the answers to either of those questions.  But whatever your answers are, I will believe it, because I know _who_ you are.  You didn't do this."

"I want you to know," he said.  "I don't want to hide anything from you.  I couldn't sleep and I thought if I took a drive, it might help relax me.  I had a flat and had one hell of a time loosening the lug nuts.  The tool slipped and I scraped up my knuckles.  I didn't ruin them on that bitch."

She wrapped her arms around him yet again.  "You didn't have to do that.  You don't have to prove anything to me.  I love you, Frank.  We'll figure this out, we'll get through this, I promise you."    

*  *  *

Ennui stood before Alca Huete.  She had endured a night with Torcido.  He had hurt her badly, but she hadn't died.  Huete would now have to come through on his end of the bargain.  She had succeeded in temporarily disabling Donovan, but as soon as the DNA tests came back, his name and reputation would be cleared.  Since that was the case, Huete would have to help her ruin him on a more permanent basis.  Of course, she would not return to the UC agents.  They would discover the truth soon enough, and she didn't want to be around for that.  She had created doubt in the minds of his own agents, and she found herself wondering what the news had done to his wife.  Would she stay with a rapist?  No woman would.  Without their leader, the team would still carry out their plan tonight.  Regardless of what Donovan had done, there was a job to be done.  They had made that clear to her before she left them.  She wasn't sure if they believed her, or their fearless leader, but it didn't matter.  The seed had been planted, and that would be enough for now.

"What is going to happen," Huete asked.

She sighed and took a seat.  "Tonight, they send the one called Alex to the seedy side of town where the girls are selected.  I do not know what she'll look like, because she will be in disguise, and from what I understand, she's good.  She isn't very young, probably early thirties, and I don't think she can pass for a teenager.  Her one distinct feature is her eyes.  They're a strange blue color, like ice, perhaps.  You can't miss that.  Of course, she could wear contacts, but I don't know.  I have brought you pictures of these agents, and you should have no difficulty picking them off one by one.  Since Donovan won't be present, I can take care of him at home.  After he's gone, take his wife."

Huete said nothing.  He sat before her and stared at the ugly bruise marring her beautiful face.  Torcido had been so very cruel to her last night.  She was a strong woman, and he had always been attracted to strong women.  He stood and approached her from behind.  His hands went into her hair.  He felt her body shiver a bit and he smiled.  She wasn't shivering, she was actually shuddering.  Huete disgusted her, he always had.  She had fucked him for his cocaine and no other reason.  His hands moved from her hair down to her throat before progressing lower.  The areas he touched made her wince.  He kept hitting the inflamed bite marks.  Did he think he would seduce her in the condition she was in?  His hands cupped her breasts and he squeezed them.  She winced again.  She didn't want to protest for fear of offending him.  If she did that, he might make her go to Torcido again, and she couldn't withstand another night of torture.  

"Take off your clothes," he commanded.  "Take them all off, Primera.  I want to see you.  I want to see _all_ of you.  Don't worry about what Fermo did to you, I don't care.  Your pussy is still perfect, no?  Your mouth wasn't affected in the least bit, either.  Come on, Primera; show me what I've missed all this time.  I'd like to look at you."  When she didn't immediately move, he gripped the breast that had the bite mark under it.  "_Do it_!"

She began unbuttoning her blouse.  "Anything you say, Alca," she said.  She would do anything he asked as long as he gave her what she wanted, and she knew he would.

*  *  *

Cody, Monica, Jake, and Alex sat together grimly at the conference table.  No one was saying much of anything.  In fact, none of them had felt like speaking since they watched their fearless leader dragged away in cuffs.  They all had wanted to question Ennui themselves, but she was shuttled away by the police on a trip to the hospital.  They knew Donovan's hatred of her; saw the damage and his injured hand.  However, they couldn't quite buy it.  Rogue he had been.  Enraged he was often.  Stiff and impersonal was his credo.  Yet, they had never known him to be a cruel rapist, a batterer.  Both Alex and Monica had wanted to accompany Ennui to the hospital to question her further, but she had left before they could find out which hospital.  Of course, the police wouldn't give them any information, confidentiality and shit.

"So, is anybody gonna ask or not," Cody asked suddenly.  He was totally and completely serious; he had never been so serious in his life.  Out of all the agents, he was the one who had the hardest time coming to terms with what happened this morning.  For all of Donovan's grumbling, pushing, and demanding, Cody was quite fond of him.  "All right.  I'll ask.  Do any of you believe this?  Do you think he attacked that woman?"

Jake shook his head.  "Hell no.  The hand thing messed me up, but that could have happened a thousand different ways.  If he had hit her as hard as he would have needed to cause those injuries, wouldn't you think his hand would be swollen?  What about defense wounds?  Did you see any on his face?  Wouldn't she have gone for his eyes at least?  I think it's all bullshit, and Shoemaker shouldn't have suspended him.  I hate that fuck."

Alex sighed.  "You have spoken for us all, Jake.  For a woman to be attacked to the degree she was, Donovan was fairly clean, wasn't he?"

"Yes, too clean," Monica said thoughtfully.  "His reaction alone spoke volumes to me.  I realize he is usually levelheaded and calm, but something such as this shouldn't have sent him off as it did if he _was_ guilty.  How well does he hide it when something is going on that he did do?"    

"You have a point," Jake said.  "So, are you guys in the same mindset as me?  We all may be pounding the pavement in the morning after Shoemaker finds out.  I have to tell you, I don't want to do this without Donovan.  Fuck the upper brass.  We need him."


	10. Partners In Trouble

PARTNERS IN TROUBLE

Loralei stood at the doorway of the bedroom.  She had thought she would have found Donovan sleeping.  She had left him up here a few hours ago, and he had been so drained and exhausted, that he seemed ready to slip into a deep coma.  However, he must have had another idea in mind.  He was wide-awake, of course, with the baby lying beside him.  He had yet to notice her, but that was okay.  Before she spoke to him, she was content to watch him and Rachel for a moment.  Uncharacteristically for their daughter when around her daddy, she was asleep.  She knew her husband was under an extraordinary amount of stress right now, but he was trying to keep from letting it show.  She didn't know whether she appreciated that particular self-defense mechanism or if it irritated her.  Loralei didn't want to admit it, but she was afraid for him.  She had been afraid before, but it was nothing like this.  She couldn't exactly describe the feelings rushing through her, but it felt as a time bomb inside her was ticking furiously, just waiting for its chance to explode tremendously and disastrously.  She found herself wondering if he would come out of this situation unscathed, or if he would endure punishment for what the bitch had said.  What would become of her husband if he were permanently dismissed because of this bullshit?  She didn't want to think of that right now.  She had to talk to him, and she wasn't getting anything done simply staring at him as if he were an exotic [and sexy] zoo exhibit.

"Frank?"

Donovan glanced up and looked at her.  It killed her a little to see the pain there.  She had never seen him so worked up, so unsure.  He was far from scared, but there was a vacant look about his eyes that was unsettling.  He didn't say anything; he simply held her transfixed with a hypnotizing gaze.  After a moment, he gently shifted his position so that his body was drawn into a partial sitting position.  Instead of telling him what he needed to know where she stood, she approached the bed and sat down before him.  She found her hand drifting up to the side of his face.  His hand came up and grasped her wrist.  He turned his head a bit and placed a kiss on her palm.  He held his hurt so valiantly inside, but hers coursed through her violently.  She had taken all his, combined it with hers, and now, it ate away inside her, growing like a dark, ugly tumor.  There was nothing she could do, and she hated that feeling most of all.  She hoped what she had to tell him would make things a little better.  The problem wouldn't go away, of course, but it might help the obvious shell shock he was experiencing.

"I know what you're doing, Loralei," he said with the hint of grin on his lips.  "I've seen it a dozen times.  You've got everything internalized inside you, and I won't have that, my love."

"It's hard not to do.  I'm not like you, I have to wear it on my sleeve, if I didn't, I'd have a ton of ulcers by now.  I'm worried about you and pissed that I can't do anything.  If I ever see that woman again, I'm going to kick her ass, make her kiss the pavement to injure those kiss stealing lips of hers.  She fucked with the wrong woman's husband, Frank.  She really, really did."

He smiled and shook his head.  Yes, she would do exactly what she said.  For a little while, she hadn't been herself, but today, she was right on.  "Baby, she's not worth the energy you would expend."  Of course, he realized he was speaking to a deaf woman.  If she wanted to kick the bitch's ass, she just might succeed.  She was certainly stubborn and persistent enough to wait for her chance.  "Worrying about me won't help you.  It's not good for you, especially now."

"I'd like for you to show me a way _not_ to feel like this, _not_ to worry.  I mean it, if I ever see her again, she's going to be one sorry ass bitch.  She will beg to go back to whoever hit her, because what I'm going to do will be ten times worse.  She'd better never cross my path, Frank.  I mean it."  She sighed.  "I'm getting way off track here.  I'm actually in here for a reason.  You have some guests waiting downstairs to see you."

The little 'what the fuck' crease appeared between his brows.  "_Guests_," he asked, confused.  

She nodded.  "Yes, FD, guests.  Go downstairs and see them.  I'll take care of Rachel."

He kissed her, declaring his love for her as he left.  Donovan slipped out of the bedroom and stood peering over the railing for a few moments.  His 'guests' were the team.  When Loralei had mentioned 'guests,' he had a feeling it would be them, but the moment he saw them, he felt a surge of gratitude and mutual respect flowing through him.  When he saw them last, he was certain they had believed the bitch, that they intended to abandon him.  However, when he realized that he had earned their trust, their loyalty, it had rendered him nearly speechless.  What the hell were they doing here?  They were all decked out in what Cody had nicknamed their 'combat threads,' with the exception of Alex.  She had a trench coat covering her body from view.  Surely they weren't doing what he thought they were.  He slowly descended the flight of stairs until he was facing the group.  At first, he was rendered silent.  Hell, he didn't know _what_ he was going to say.

Stiffly, stately, he asked, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Jesus, Boss, what does it look like," Jake spat.  "We need to break this ring apart and we can't do that without our fearless leader."

He gazed at them incredulously.  What was he talking about?  If they did that, Shoemaker would dismiss them all.  He could not allow them to sacrifice their careers for him.  They all had very long, very promising futures ahead of them, and he didn't want to be responsible for their downfalls.  "I can't let you do that," he said.  "You must go and do what you need to do, but I cannot let you drag me along.  I've been disciplined.  It hasn't happened often, but it has happened.  I won't let any of you harm your careers for me.  Don't worry about me, I'll be back in business as soon as those tests come through."

"Screw that, Sex Machine," Cody quipped.  "We can't let you take a bad rap.  So, if Shoemaker finds out, which he will, we'll all be in the unemployment line together!  We have a job to do, true.  We have a ring to break apart, truer still, but there's no way we're going to buy the bullshit that trouble starter has fed us."

"So, Boss," Monica said.  "We can't wait for you all day."

*  *  *

Before leaving, Donovan insisted that Loralei call over their next-door neighbor to sit with her and Rachel.  He didn't trust leaving her alone, not with the bitch looming in the shadows.  Of course, he realized that his wife was stubborn, and he didn't walk out the door until Loralei called Kara and she agreed to come over.  He waited another half hour for the woman to arrive.  When she appeared, she didn't come alone.  Farron had accompanied her.  Donovan would have liked to explore their newfound relationship a bit more, but there would be time for that later.  With one last hug and kiss from Loralei, he left.

*  *  *

Huete had sent Torcido to find the residence of Frank Donovan.  Farron wasn't aware, but Ennui had pilfered around his apartment the day she seduced him.  She had found his address book and saw an address without a heading.  She assumed it was Donovan's home, because if it weren't, he would have written a name to associate with it.  It was a bonehead move, of course, but one that would pay off nicely.  Torcido wasn't sure he had secured the right address until he saw something that made him smile.  Five people, three men and two women, exited the residence, and four of them were the UC agents.  The man following them out was Frank Donovan.  He knew that Donovan's wife and daughter would be inside the home, alone and vulnerable.

Kara and Farron were literally hovering over Loralei.  It was sweet, and she was appreciative, but it was also getting on her nerves.  Leaving Farron and Kara downstairs, she announced that she wanted to lie down.  All of a sudden, she felt extremely tired and worn down.  She had hidden her exhaustion from her husband, because he needed no other distractions.  If he were distracted out in the field, it would only spell disaster for him.  If anything happened to him, she would lose her mind.  She dragged her body upstairs and fell face first onto the bed.  

*  *  *

Donovan, Cody, and Monica remained in a surveillance van parked fifteen or so blocks from where Alex stood playing her role to the hilt.  Jake was on standby near Alex in case she needed the backup.  Both Alex and Jake updated Donovan every few minutes.  They had yet to see Huete's right hand man or a woman out recruiting kids.  Nothing.  The fact that they had seen nothing didn't sit well with Donovan.  If the bitch had gone as far as to pin her rape and beating on him, she might turn the tables on their mission.  The thought of that pierced his heart with paranoia.  He made a hasty call home, and when Farron assured him that everything was all right, he turned to Cody and demanded a list of Alca Huete's associates, and their rap sheets.

*  *  *

He stood over the form of the sleeping woman.  She was apparently so exhausted that she didn't know he was there.  His fist was swollen and bloody from hitting the man, and blacking the other woman's eye.  He had literally had to shoot the man to get him away from the woman.  The woman had been easier to take care of.  One punch and she was out.  He had thrown her body into his SUV and returned for the other woman.  She was a beauty, and she might turn an excellent dollar on the streets.  Ah, and the red tinged hair was always a plus.  How long would it take to get her hooked on Huete's powerful cocaine?  He had stolen two of them; two Donovan women, and his _jefe_ would be pleased.  Of course, Huete's whore would also be pleased.  If she wanted to take care of Donovan herself, the best way to do that [according to Primera] was to snag his wife.  The reward would be great.

Loralei couldn't breathe, and she had no idea why.  She had been sleeping one moment, and then the next, she couldn't breathe.  When she managed to muster the strength to open her eyes, she saw a large man looming over her, covering her mouth with his large paw.  She tried to struggle away from him, but his body was beefy and immovable.  She couldn't hurt him unless she had a sledgehammer.  As he carried her struggling form out of the room, she could hear the cries of her daughter.  Oh God.  Oh God.  She didn't want anything to happen to the baby.  _Please don't let him hurt my baby_, she thought, _please don't let him hurt her_.

*  *  *

Cody found the information Donovan wanted.  He stared down the extensive list of associates, and most of them he knew or had past experience with.  There was one he had never heard of, though, and he wasn't sure why the name caught his attention.  Enfermo Torcido.  It stuck in his mind, tweaking his brain.  He flipped through the remainder of the pages and glanced at the rap sheets of each man.  There were few surprises with the men he knew.  However, Torcido's record spoke immense volumes about his personality.  His charges were even more extensive than all the other men together:  five rapes, four attempted murders, twelve aggravated assaults, and one murder.  All of these charges were dismissed because the witnesses and/or victims had disappeared.  The rapes he had committed were brutal and vicious.  He had an affinity for biting his victims.  He thought of the bitch, thought of the injuries she had reported.  Torcido had attacked her, but why?  The bitch was a former lover of Huete.  What if he had asked her to ensure some bizarre re-initiation ritual where she had to spend the night with one of Huete's men?  Was that a feasible idea?  _Was it_?  He was certain the bitch had double-crossed them.  Frantically, he grabbed his phone and dialed his home number again.  This time, no one answered.  Dear God.  His wife.  His daughter.

*  *  *

Farron regained conscious slowly, painstakingly.  The last image he had seen before blacking out was a gun pointed directly toward his head.  He had been shot, but he didn't think the injury was life threatening.  Another thought entered his mind.  Shel.  The sick, twisted fuck had taken her.  He then thought of his sister in-law and niece.  Vaguely, in the back of his mind, he could hear the wailing cries of Rachel.  What the hell?  He brought his aching, bleeding body up into a sitting position, and glanced around the room.  His brother.  Yes.  He would call Frank.  Frank would know what to do.  He would find Shel and Loralei.  First, he had to think about Rachel.  How terrified the baby must be.

*  *  *

Both Kara and Loralei had been taken to a room and locked in.  The brutal fucker who kidnapped them had cuffed their ankles to the steel supports on a cot-type bed sitting in the middle of the room.  There were no windows or other furniture inside.  Loralei was focused on nothing more than her baby.  At the same time, she tried to soothe a very distraught Kara.  Her eye was blackened and swollen.  Dear God, that sick fucker was cruel.  Loralei wrapped her arms around the other woman, and they clung to each other.  Kara had seen the man shooting her lover, and she was certain he was dead.  The two of them looked up suddenly as the door came open.  A man they had never seen before greeted them.  He was evil.  They had no trouble seeing that, but he carried himself as if he were Mr. Universe.  He had come alone.

Alca Huete gazed at the two women.  One was staring up at him defiantly.  The other was nursing a ruined eye.  Primera had told him that the auburn haired woman was Donovan's wife and the blonde was Farron's mistress.  By the end of the night, he planned on having both of them broken down enough where they would gratefully submit to the cocaine he would push on them.  As soon as Donovan discovered his wife had been kidnapped, he would come here, and then he would allow Primera to do whatever she wanted.  He might even let her have the wife.  They could use the blonde, in some capacity.  Perhaps he would give her to Torcido.  He had taken an affinity for the woman when he smacked her.  Strength came in numbers, so he immediately decided to separate them.  He backed toward the entrance to the room and stuck his head out the door.  He called for Torcido, and Kara began to scream.

*  *  *

Loralei was trying to determine the weakness of her leg bond.  It was a reinforced steel shank, and she was certain that it would take her an eternity to break through it.  She didn't know what Huete had in store for her, but she knew it wasn't good.  She looked up again as the door creaked open.  She growled when she recognized the bitch.  Ennui stood in the doorway, staring at Loralei with a victorious grin on her face.  It would only be a matter of time before Donovan came.  When he did, she would be waiting for him.  She watched as Loralei began struggling against her bonds again.  

"You can't get free," Ennui said, "You're trapped, trapped like a caged animal."

"When I get out of this, I'm going to kick your fucking ass back to Colombia," she snarled.

Ennui laughed.  "Ha.  Very funny.  I'd like to see you escape that.  You might be Frank's wife, but you're not as smart as he, and you'll never get free unless a key releases you.  I wouldn't spend my time fretting.  Huete has plans for you and your little girlfriend.  I have plans for Frank.  You stole him from me, stole the life that should be mine, and I'm not about losing.  I'm about winning.  And this time, Mrs. Donovan, I will win."

Loralei looked the woman up and down with her bright green eyes, sizing her up, checking out her weaknesses.  She had plenty, she only hoped she could use them against her.  She said nothing to the other woman, she watched her closely, carefully.  Ennui approached her competition, the woman who had stolen her life and dreams.  She wondered what was going through Loralei's head.  She had said nothing to her, and she was certain Mrs. Donovan was a weak little bitch.  She didn't know what Donovan saw in her.  Ennui was actually looking at Loralei's left hand ring finger.  She spied the engagement ring atop a thick gold wedding band.  She didn't know why she had fixated on that ring, but for some reason, she couldn't tear her eyes away.  Then it hit her.  The diamond in the gold setting was significantly larger than the one in hers.  For a moment, she was totally and completely flabbergasted.  What other hideous proof did she need that Donovan truly loved Loralei, truly wanted her more?  

Loralei watched as Ennui leaned closer and closer to her, fixated on her wedding rings.  If the bitch got just a little closer, she could make her move.  She took in shallow breaths as she waited.  Before Ennui knew what hit her, she felt an explosive pain blooming in her head.  She actually wasn't sure what hit her.  Surely, the weak ass Mrs. Donovan hadn't done this.  Ennui brought her hand up to her face and felt the warm gush of blood spouting from her mouth.  She had punched her directly on the mouth, loosening teeth [probably knocking out a few while she was at it].  Goddamn.  Goddamn.  Her world began to gray a bit, and she fell face forward onto the cot.

*  *  *

Donovan arrived home to total and complete chaos.  Farron's blood had made a small pool on the living room floor.  It was a flesh wound and he had managed to stop the flow of blood on his own.  He refused medical treatment.  Donovan stood in the living room and watched as his twin soothed his crying infant.  He could stand still no longer.  He went to his brother and took his daughter.  The instant she recognized his touch, his scent, she began to quiet down.  The man who looked like Daddy _wasn't_ Daddy.  

"Where is Loralei," Donovan asked, boring his eyes into Farron's.

He shook his head.  "I do not know," he began painfully.  His jaw was swelling by the second.  "The man who shot me took her.  Took her and Shel."

Donovan felt the bottom of his world dropping to the darkest black hole in outer space.  "Oh God," he moaned.  "This man who attacked you and took the women, what did he look like?"

"Big, arms like clubs, dark hair, dark eyes, built like a bulldog."

He closed his eyes tightly.  When he opened them, Farron was staring at him.  Although he was in the throes of a widespread panic, he managed to hold onto his daughter gently, thoughtfully.  "Fuck," he spat through clenched teeth.  "They're with Alca Huete.  That man was his right hand man.  Can you help me find her?  I know you're not in that mindset any longer, but I need your help."

Farron nodded.  "Yes, of course.  They have Kara as well, and I cannot stand here and let them hurt her, hurt either of them.  I'll do it.  I'll help you."

Donovan hoped it wasn't too late.  He shoved the ominous thoughts out of his mind to set the wheels in motion.  They had little time to fuck around.


	11. Stopping The Trouble Starter

STOPPING THE TROUBLE STARTER

After releasing herself from her bonds, Loralei cuffed the bitch to the cot.  _Let's see how well **you** like it.  _If it weren't for kicking her when she was down, Loralei would have buried her foot to the hilt in Ennui's stomach, but she hesitated.  Not only was the idea a bad one, but it also appeared that she had been beaten enough.  After everything the bitch had done to her and her husband, she still managed to feel sympathy for the whore.  She glanced down at the keys resting in the palm of her hand.  If the same type of cuff had bound Kara, she could free her as well.  She had no idea how far she would make it beyond the door, but she couldn't stay here and become a cocaine call girl.  They would have to kill her first.  She went to the unconscious bitch and patted her down.  To her keyed up delight, the bitch was armed.  The gun was low caliber, and wouldn't be a match for the semi-automatics, but at least she wouldn't go out unarmed.  She peeked out the window no more than a couple of seconds and tried to take in as much as she could.  She couldn't see anyone moving around outside.  She thought it a good sign.  However, there could be tons of goons down the hall, and she didn't know how long the pathetic little pistol could hold out.  Her mind told her to stay put, but her heart pushed her forward.  She had begun to wonder if the gang was using her to bait her husband.  _Would_ the bitch go that far?  Would she try to harm a man she supposedly loves?  She wanted to speak to Donovan, to warn him, but she wasn't sure how she would go about that.  Steeling herself, she pulled on the door handle and waited for shots to ring out.  When none came, she took a deep breath and stepped out into the unknown.

*  *  *

Farron glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye.  Donovan hadn't said much of anything since they had gotten into the car.  He had phoned his agents and had them on standby.  He didn't intend on running to the scene without backup, but he wanted them close in case he was tempted.  He knew that his mind drifted when Loralei was in trouble, and he tended to forget to ask for help.  She was his wife, damn it, and he was hell bent to help her on his own.  Yet, he had barked at them from day one not to go into a situation alone, and he had to dance to the same tune.  It was hard accepting help, and even harder asking for it.  Donovan felt his brother's eyes on him, and they exchanged a brief look.  He found himself proud of his twin; proud that he hadn't fled when the heat became unbearable.  He could tell that Farron was as messed up about Kara as he was Loralei, but he actually put on a brave front and declared that both of them would live.  _Strong women, very strong, and they will survive.  We will get to them in time_.  Two sides of the same coin…

*  *  *

Loralei slid cautiously along the endless corridor.  She saw several doors leading to rooms that were identical to the one she had been held prisoner.  _Sleeping quarters?  Is that what this is_?  Did they bring the women here to begin brainwashing them, to feed them cocaine?  She found herself peeking in each window, but the rooms were vacant.  This place, wherever it was, must have been the 'breaking in' area.  It seemed almost…institutional, like a prison or a jail.  She strained to remember if there was a vacant jail or hospital in town?  Was there?  She thought there might be, but she couldn't remember.  Damn it.  She moved further down the hallway, ever cautious, keeping her body against the wall as she had been trained to do in her rookie days.  _Never thought I'd be using those rookie skills again, not after leaving for a second time._  Stop it.  If she didn't, she would wind up shot.  She cleared her mind and progressed further than before.  She snuck peeks into a room here and there, looking for Kara.  What if the men were with Kara already?  Jesus.  The thought was too outrageous to comprehend.  Dear, dear Kara had gotten involved just because she was their next-door neighbor.  Loralei's heart stopped when she heard voices echoing down the connecting hallway no more than six or seven feet from where she stood.  She plastered her body against the wall and held her breath.  She was caught.  They would probably shoot her on sight.  She breathed heavily and rapidly as the voices grew nearer and nearer.  They were close enough to where she could recognize them.  It was the one she had learned was Huete and the other whose name was Torcido.  

"She won't take it," Huete asked incredulously.  "Did you tell her it would make the pain in her eye go away?"

"She wouldn't listen," Torcido said.  "I'll leave her for a moment, but return shortly.  If she won't take it when I come back to her, I'll fucking force it up her nose."

It was obvious that they were talking about Kara.  The fuckers were trying to make her snort cocaine.  They wanted her to become a call girl.  Oh, hell no.  She would give herself over before she would let them bring further harm to Kara.  The two men kept moving closer to the open space at the end of the corridor.  When they reached that spot, Loralei would be in plain view.  To her utter amazement [and relief], the two men stopped right at the very edge of the opening.  She could see the back of Huete's body.  _Dear God, if he turns around, I'm fucked_.  She stood there, breathing heavily, and raised the pistol up just a bit.  They might kill her, but she would go down fighting.  After a very hairy moment, the two men went back down the same hall from where they came.  She relaxed, but only a little.  She still wasn't out of the woods yet.  Loralei continued making her way closer to the end of the hall.  In the third to the last room on the left side of the corridor, she finally found Kara.  She was sitting on the side of the cot, her face in her hands.  Loralei looked down at the ring full of keys and tried each and every one until she heard the lock sliding open.  Kara looked up, expecting to see Torcido, but saw Loralei instead.  

Behind her, she heard a loathsome roar.  "_What are you doing_?"  

Gunshots rang out, breaking the deafening silence in the hall.  A woman screamed.  Was it Loralei?  Was it Kara?

*  *  *

Farron stopped the car just short of a wooded area.  If he remembered Huete as well as he thought, he assumed the man would choose a secluded vacated building.  The only one Farron knew of close to the city was an abandoned mental hospital.  It would be a perfect place to house the trapped women, a perfect place to brainwash them and hook them on cocaine.  Donovan barked sharp orders to his crew, telling them where they needed to be.  He sat back and stared at the hospital.  For an abandoned building, it seemed in relatively good shape with a manicured lawn.  Of course, the place was also lit up, making it obvious that someone occupied it.

"How many men would be here," Donovan asked without tearing his eyes off the building.  His pregnant wife was somewhere inside that building.  He felt it.  

"Not sure," he answered.  "No more than necessary.  Huete breaks in the girls after they are clotted with cocaine.  If there are too many men around, they tend to take liberties.  Huete is here, and probably Torcido.  I would think those would be the only two inside.  Outside, there might be as many as five men guarding the place from intruders."

Donovan nodded.  He was half-cocked and ready to run in with guns blazing.  He reached for his holster where he had tucked an extra weapon.  He dug it out, found several fresh clips, and handed it over to his twin.  "I know you're on probation, but I want you to take this.  If you're caught with it, I will help you with any consequences that result.  I need all the gun power I can get."

Farron nodded, completely understanding.  He still wasn't comfortable with guns, with the idea of taking a life, but his brother, Loralei, and Kara were counting on him.  He took the gun and checked to make sure it was loaded.  "When do we go in?"

"As soon as Jake and Alex tell me they're in position."  He put his hand against the earpiece.  "Cody are you on this?"

"Sure, Boss," Cody said.  "I have your location triangulated.  No information on this particular place, and I can't tell you anything you don't already know.  But I can tell you that none other than Alca Huete owns this old loony bin now.  He bought it for…don't laugh…extra storage space."

"Goddamn," Donovan swore.  "How would the sellers believe this shit?"

"Boss," Alex spat, "we're on the fringe of the property.  Not sure where the security cameras are located, but I see a few beefy guys roaming around the front, craning their necks.  I think they know something is up."

"Good, I want them to know," Donovan spat.  "Cody, get the PD down here, as many men as they will send."  He glanced at his brother.  "How's the wound?"

He shrugged.  "Not bad.  I can do this.  Don't worry about me."

*  *  *

Breathing heavily, cursing incoherently, Loralei looked down at the man she had just shot.  He wasn't dead, but he was close.  She hadn't shot many people in her life, but at this juncture, it was either he or she.  She had a husband, a daughter, and an unborn baby to think about.  This man had been set to kill her.  Before turning away from the dying bastard, she took his gun.  She then turned away and went about opening Kara's cell.  Bless her heart.  She wasn't crying or raising a fuss.  Loralei wasn't even sure how _she_ held onto her own sanity.  She kneeled before Kara and unlocked the cuff holding her captive.

"Are you okay," Loralei asked her.

She nodded.  "Yes, I'm fine.  Those men were…were trying to make me snort cocaine.  I thought they killed you.  Just now, I thought you were dead."

Loralei looked up at Kara and smiled a little.  "No.  Takes a little more than a stupid gun to kill me.  We're going to have to keep low, Kara."  She handed the man's gun over to Kara.  "I don't know if you've ever shot one of these before, but I need your help.  I'm not sure how long this one will hold out.  I'm asking a shitload out of you, Kara.  Basically, I need your trust, because darlin,' I don't know if we're going to get out alive or not."

"Anything is better than this," Kara whispered.

*  *  *

Donovan and Farron slipped quietly out of the car and made their way toward the front of the building.  All of them were decked out in black; it was hard detecting them with the naked eye.  Of course, the surveillance cameras were right on them and it wouldn't take long to take them all out.  They had submachine guns, the others did not.  However, they were instructed by Huete himself that they were not to fire on them.  He had special plans for their leader.  Donovan kept communication going among them, but he wasn't the least bit confused.  He knew that Huete's gang should have fired on them by now, but they were hesitating.  This definitely smelled like a trap.  It was too easy getting to the front.  

*  *  *

_Where is every fucking body_, Loralei thought as she and Kara made their way down yet another long corridor.  This place had to have been some type of hospital.  There were too many damn rooms for it to be anything else.  Kara was in a hurry to get out and Loralei had to tell her a dozen or more times to slow down.  Panic was not their friend, not in a situation such as this.  After passing through several hallways, it appeared that they were getting closer to the front of the building.  At that point, Loralei could hear voices again.  Huete.  Torcido.  The others she didn't recognize.  Yes, this was definitely a set up.  She could hear the men discussing their 'guests,' and making mention of 'Primera.'  Of course, they didn't know that 'Primera' was knocked the fuck out and cuffed to the cot.  The only ambush to be made would be her on the end and the team from the outside.  She knew that Donovan was smart enough to evade a trap.  She checked the gun and noted that at the time she snagged it, it was fully loaded.  She had only expended one bullet.  She couldn't take out all of them, but she could try to take out as many as she could.  She glanced at Kara and mouthed, 'we'll wait, and then rush in, but only when I yell.'

*  *  *

Donovan and Farron were closing the distance between the grounds and the front of the building.  They watched, astonished, as the guards slipped back inside.  What the fuck?  Donovan shook his head incredulously.  Their lack of subtlety astounded him.  Didn't they realize he hadn't been a greenhorn agent in several years?  He ordered Alex and Jake to stand back and keep sharp.  There was a great possibility that several other men were lurking about, and they couldn't take any chances.  At it was, it took extreme control to prevent rushing onward.  At this point, it would be a grave mistake.  Donovan motioned toward his brother, indicating that he should stand back as well.  They had stepped into the belly of the beast, and had to play the waiting game.  He hoped his wife was alive.  He was content to stand outside forever, but the sound of sporadic gunfire broke his stillness.  

"_Goddamn it, move_," Donovan roared.

All six of them entered the building at once.  They had little time to announce themselves.  They dove behind any cover they could find and exchanged gunfire crazily.  Wonderingly, Donovan listened to his wife's voice screaming, cursing.  The temptation to look for her was great.  He had to maintain his wits, keep his mind focused on the job.  He had no intention of making her a widow tonight, and that's where he was headed if he didn't resist the urge.  He listened in horror as Loralei screamed for Kara to take cover.  _Fuck me_, he thought.  _She's fucking shooting_.  What the hell was she thinking?  Donovan sprung up and began shooting at the idiot plunking bullets into the counter he had ducked behind.  Blindly, he squeezed the trigger, and wasn't sure if he missed or hit.  In that split second, he saw Loralei's head emerging from around the corner as she squeezed off her own shot.  She was trying to get the same guy.  _This is the most bizarre shit I've ever seen_, he thought.  He didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or throttle her for taking such an extraordinary risk.  How did she get the damn gun?  _How_?

"_My gun is dead_," Loralei screamed out, "_Kara throw me that semi-auto by your feet_!"

Her gun was dead?  She was commanding Kara to throw her another?  He began to wonder if this was all a weird dream that he was unable to awaken from.  He came up again, squeezed off yet another spastic round, saw one guy fall, and then another.  He was able to get another look at her, and noticed that she was handling the gun as if she had never stopped using one.  Goddamn, he felt…proud.  _I shouldn't be thinking like this, I shouldn't be doing this.  This is no laughing matter_.  However, in tense situations such as these, no one wanted to focus on the dim and grim.  In the distance, he heard the unmistakable wail of sirens.  The fucking police had finally made it.  He glanced behind him at Farron.  His twin was focused and unreachable.  Not wanting to distract him, he turned away and demanded that his agents call out.  He didn't know if they were alive or dead.  When he was certain that they were alive and shooting, he noticed that the gunfire had tapered off a bit.  It meant one of two things.  Either the bad guys were disabled or regrouping.  He wanted to call out to Loralei, but she didn't need the distraction, either.  He came up slowly once again, and once again, saw the top of her head, and then her eyes.  She was grimly reloading the gun, getting it ready to burst through the remainder of the men standing.  He exchanged a brief glance with her, needing to make some kind of contact, and she stunned him by flipping him off.  At first, he was confused, but then realized it was her way of telling him she was fine.  Donovan ducked back down, not wanting to risk getting shot.    

Loralei glanced around the corner and saw the only two men standing:  Huete and Torcido.  They were cringing behind the furniture, only looking up when they needed to.  By that time, the battle had nearly ended.  Most the gang was either dead or injured.  Donovan took another chance to peek over the counter.  He noticed exactly what Loralei did.  He saw the main men of the operation hiding.  He wasn't sure if either were armed.  He figured at least one of them would be.  Suddenly, from outside, they heard a Chicago cop demanding surrender.  _Goddamn_, Donovan thought.  They wouldn't surrender.  Both Loralei and Donovan watched as Huete and Torcido began slipping by the couch.  There was a door very close to them, and they were attempting an escape.  

"_Freeze_," Donovan roared, his gun aimed perfectly, held steadily.

Although he had roared upon deaf ears, Torcido turned toward Donovan and raised his weapon.  Donovan didn't flinch as Torcido squeezed off a shot.  His aim was worse than his disposition.  _Firing on a federal agent_, Donovan thought, _naughty naughty_.  He returned fire and hit Torcido square in the chest.  At that point, Huete was trying to make a run for it, and Loralei did not hesitate.

"He's mine," she called to Donovan.

Before he had the chance to breathe, protest, laugh, or cry, she grabbed the gun and ripped half a dozen bullets into his lower legs.  She wanted the fucker taken alive.    

*  *  *

By the time the police made it inside, the short, but intense gunfight was over.  Three men had died, including Torcido.  The others had critical injuries, but they would live.  The group stood back and watched as the men were carted away.  Loralei directed the men to the bitch.  As the police led her away, her hands cuffed in front of her body, Donovan noticed her bloody mouth.  Loralei had the greatest urge to walk up to the bitch and trip her.  He glanced at wife, who was standing to the side, answering dozens of questions.  His eyes asked:  'did you do that?'  Hers answered:  'you bet your sweet ass.'

Donovan didn't get a chance to see Loralei alone, without the prying eyes of the crowd, until the clean up was nearly complete.  He found her leaning against the wall, her face in her hands.  If she heard one more damn question, she would scream.  Unable to stay away for another moment, he approached her and stood directly in front of her.

"What you did out there was crazy, Loralei," he told her.

She looked up at him.  "Need I remind you that you do it every day," she asked, smiling a little.  "I couldn't stand back, couldn't let them kill you.  They wanted to take you out."

"Goddamn it," he said, taking her into his embrace.  "Are you okay?"

She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly.  "I'm fine, Frank, wonderful."

He kissed her, withdrew, and kissed her again.  Goddamn it.  Goddamn it all.  He couldn't believe that she had walked away from this craziness without so much as a scratch.  "You're going to the hospital anyway," he said.

She pulled back from him.  "No, I don't need a hospital, I'm fine.  I told you."

"I don't care how 'fine' you say you are.  Please, get checked out."

She gazed into his deep brown eyes.  He was worried about the baby; worried that something would happen like the first time.  After the shock wore off, she remembered that she had not been fine, not at all.  She nodded.  "I'll go."

In the other corner, Farron stood with Kara, and had her body pressed against the wall.  He couldn't stop touching her, kissing her.  He was amazed at the emotion rushing through him.  He held her as she cried for him, cried for the injuries he sustained.  She cried because she thought she lost him.  God help her, but she was falling in love with him, and he felt it, felt it with everything he had in him.  


	12. Two Sides Of The Same Coin

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

**(The End of the Case and the Beginning of Renewed Love)**

Farron and Kara 

Farron and Kara entered his apartment.  She had insisted that they go to the hospital to have treatment for his leg wound.  He thought that she needed to see someone herself.  However, she insisted that she was fine.  Of course, Farron could walk unassisted, but she also insisted to help him inside his apartment.  Like a mother hen, she made him sit down on the couch while she retrieved ice to ease the swelling.  He again found himself protesting, his leg wasn't swelled _that _badly.  He couldn't argue with her, not really.  It felt nice having someone around who actually cared for him.  He wasn't accustomed to that, and it literally blew his mind.  Farron, grinning, watched as Kara went into his kitchen and began rattling around.  If she would let him get up, he would go in and help her.  If he moved a muscle, she scolded him as if he were a wayward child.  Any other man might find that annoying, but he found it heart achingly endearing.  She came back a few moments later and sat beside him with the bowl of ice in her hand.  He watched with interest as she removed the sterile dressing to examine his leg wound.  When she touched it, he drew in a hissed breath.  It didn't hurt, necessarily, but it shocked him all the same.  She was bent studiously over his leg, examining the injury, noting [as he had] that it wasn't so bad.  His hand fell on the back of her head and he began to caress her hair.  She rose up at his touch and gazed up at him thoughtfully.  

They had yet to make love again after the first time, and she had been aching for him every night, having wild, erotic dreams about him.  She wanted to share those dreams with him, but felt embarrassed and ashamed to admit her own desires.  However, he was teaching her, and teaching her well.  Unable to hold back a moment longer, she leaned toward him and covered his mouth with hers.  The moment her tongue entered his mouth, he took immediate control of the kiss, plunging both hands into her hair, mussing it, tangling it.  She was trying her best to be careful where she placed her body for fear of causing him further injury, but he seemed not to care at all.  He pulled her body over to him, so that she was straddling him.  The weight of her body against his drove him over his 'control' edge.  He wasn't sure if he could deny her again, not after tonight, not after what they had gone through together.  His hands slid from her hair down to her back, and the instant he touched her, she strained closer against him.  A low moan escaped her and she drew away from his demanding, possessive lips.

"I want you," she whispered.  "If you don't make love to me, I just might rape you."

His lips found her throat where his teeth began nibbling and biting none too gently.  Of course, it felt wildly erotic to her.  "Shel," he moaned against her throat.  "There is no need to force me to do anything.  I want you just as much, more," he said as he guided her hand between his legs.  "Feel that?"

"Yes," she sighed.  Her hand moved over him, with little experience, but enough urgency to make up for it.  "Don't deny me tonight, don't send me away," she whimpered.

He slowly removed her hand.  What he had he wanted to save.  "I'm not sending you anywhere.  I only want to make sure that this is what you want."

"Farron," she moaned, "don't tease me.  It's what I wanted the moment I first saw you."

It was all he needed to hear.  He would not deny her any desire, ever.  Gently, he guided her body away from his so that he could stand.  His back turned to her for a brief moment, he grabbed the bowl of ice and grinned wickedly.  "We might need this a little later."

Was he kidding?  She could use some _now_.  Every muscle, every piece of flesh, _everything_ inside her was on fire, but it would take more than a bowl of ice to extinguish it.  He presented his hand to her and she took it.  Slowly, painfully, he led her to his bedroom.  This was her first time inside it, and she stunned by the entire wall of mirrors.  She wasn't sure if he were vain, or if his apartment had simply come that way.  It didn't matter, nothing did.  He released her hand and she stood before him silently.  She wanted to rip everything off and then work on him, but he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.  Every few seconds, she glanced up at their reflections in the mirrors, and she had an idea what he intended to do.  She shivered in anticipation while a deep ache began to build, settling between her thighs.  She didn't know if she had enough patience to wait this out.

As Farron's insistent lips caressed the side of her throat, his hands came up and began unbuttoning her blouse.  "Don't move, don't assist, look up in the mirrors and watch me touch you," he whispered into her ear.  

She followed his instructions and watched as his deft fingers released every button until the blouse was totally open.  He stepped back just long enough to slide the blouse down her arms.  He worked on her bra next, taking forever, rolling it off her at a snail's pace.  Did he realize what he was doing to her?  _Did he_?  She tried to turn toward him, but he wouldn't allow it.  He turned her back around to face the mirrors as his hands finally cupped her breasts.  Her nipples hardened before he had the chance to touch them at all.  When his thumbs began brushing against them, her eyes closed tightly and her head lolled back just the tiniest bit.  

"Shel, open your eyes, I want you to see me, to see us."

Although difficult, she couldn't resist his commands, couldn't resist _him_ at all.  Once again, she gazed up into the mirrors as his experienced fingers ran repeatedly over her nipples, tweaking them, making them almost beg for his lips.  She groaned a frustrated protest as his hands moved away to slide down toward the zipper of her skirt.  Like the devilish man he was, he drew the zipper down almost as slowly as he had discarded her bra.  She didn't tear her eyes away from the mirror and she watched him work his large, pleasure giving hands inside the skirt, drawing it down in one swift, hard yank that made her cry out in lusty surprise.  His body moved back up hers slowly, his hands following the same direction upward.  Teasingly, torturously, he slipped his hands just inside her panties at the side.  By then, she was moaning, insane with desire.  Yet, she couldn't speak, couldn't vocalize.  She kept her eyes on the mirrors.  

Farron allowed one hand to remain on her side as the other slipped out of her panties.  Suddenly, unexpectedly, his hand snaked down to the front of her, and she watched in astonishment as it slipped from her lower abdomen down.  His hand didn't move any lower, not immediately, and she didn't know if she should scream, cry, or do both.  When she least expected it, his hand slipped down between her legs, and he began an intensely wicked caress outside her panties.  By then, she was quaking against him, begging him to stop.  He didn't listen.  He whispered commands to her, asking that she focus on the mirrors, on what she was watching.  Oh, what a wicked wicked man.  She was moaning now, groaning, on the verge of an explosive orgasm when his hand stopped completely.  

"Farron," she whispered harshly, disappointed.  

"Shh," his hissing breath blew over her naked flesh, and dozens upon dozens of chill bumps attacked her, creeping over every body part, even inside.  "Shel, watch, don't speak," he said again.

His hands slipped into her panties again, and with the same kind of swift movement, they were gone.  She almost hadn't been aware at all.  He pressed his body against her naked buttocks, and she could feel his hardness.  Oh how she wanted him, wanted him any way, in every position known to man.  His hands slid down between her thighs again, and both of them worked together this time.  Like some type of perverted voyeur, she watched him touching her, as he had commanded a dozen times.  Her whimpering came back into the game, and she thought she might cry.  His fingers brushed against the outside of her sex, never quite making contact with the aching moist skin inside, not just yet.  His hands moved away and another groan expelled from the depths of her throat.  He stood almost against her as he slowly began to shed his clothes.  Oh, no fair.  She couldn't see him through the mirror; her body obstructed the magnificent view.  

It didn't take Farron long to discard his clothing.  He moved in closer behind her and she felt him skin on skin.  Oh how tempted she was to reach around and grasp him, forcing him inside her so that she could end the torment he had created.  He turned her toward him and kissed her deeply, running his tongue along her teeth, touching hers, and exploring her mouth passionately.  She felt his body pushing hers toward the bed.  _It's about damn time_, she thought.  During the kiss, she drew her legs up around his waist and he supported the weight of her body just long enough to place her down onto the bed.  Instead of coming with her, he drew back.  She watched [somewhat frustrated] as he moved away.  Curiously, she saw him pick up the small bowl of ice.  When he turned toward her with the bowl in his large paw, she couldn't tear her eyes away from his enormous erection.  _How did I ever accommodate that_, she wondered as her tongue snaked out to wet her lips.  Dear God, it was a miracle that she hadn't split in two.

Farron came toward her, kneeling over her body and took a cube out of the bowl.  Against the heat of his hands, the ice began to melt almost immediately, and he drew lazy circles around her nipples.  The shock of the cold and the desire coursing through her made her gasp aloud.  He sucked at her nipples, sipping the water droplets as if they were fine, fine wine.  She cried out and arched her back a bit.  He repeated the same trick on her other nipple.  She was at the point of orgasm; it wouldn't take much else to send her over.  With the ice, he made a trail down between her breasts, to her abdomen, and sucked up every droplet of water.  Shaking and crying now, he slipped the ice cube lower.  The moment he touched her leg, she opened her thighs for him.  She cried out [_oh dear fucking God_] as the ice cube touched her inside.  She wanted his mouth down there, sucking up the droplets as he had done on her body, but he had other plans.  He popped the piece of ice into his mouth and crunched it up ruthlessly, as his lips made a trail back up.  His lips found her hardened nipples once again, and for the first time that night, she noticed that his hair was tied back.  When did that happen?  Oh yes, at the hospital.  She couldn't have that.  Her hand reached down to the back of his head, and she pulled impatiently at the band holding his hair back into its loose ponytail.  When it was freed of its confines, it flowed over his shoulders, touching her breasts, brushing against her nipples.   

"_Oh dear fucking God_," she cried again as a massive orgasm ripped through her.  When would the torture, the teasing, be over?  When would he fill her?  When when when when?

His lips found hers again and she plunged her hands into his glorious locks.  After a long, breathless kiss, he broke away just for a moment.  Her tongue snaked out over her lips again as she watched him retrieve a condom.  She turned her head away as her face flushed heatedly.  _Oh my shit, the size of that damn condom_.  He came for her again and rolled her body neatly beneath his.  His hips came down between her parted thighs, and her legs went instinctively around his waist.  He sank into her, once again relishing the tight pull of her flesh as it drew him into her deeply, gripping him tremendously.  She grabbed double hands full of his buttocks and began helping him push into her even deeper.  He filled her completely, sinking so deeply that his abdomen was touching hers.  He rocked her gently, in and out, through the intimate dance of lovers, and she found herself matching him thrust by every delicious thrust.  As much as his brother, Farron had the control factor working on his side, he held out greedily, giving and taking equally, but not quite giving over.  She was so tight, so wonderfully tight, that he couldn't maintain his control.  He realized then that he didn't _have_ control.  She possessed his mind and body just as solidly as he possessed hers.

Kara released her grip on one of his buttocks only to give it a loud, hardy smack.  The sharp _thwacking _noise startled him for a moment, broke the control he had just a little.  He gazed down into her impassioned face, noting that her head was tossing wildly from side-to-side, and she smacked his ass again.  He had been into some kinky shit before, but never the slapping thing.  Oddly, it was turning him on.  He wasn't an idiot, he knew as she came, she was smacking him, conveying what a 'good boy' he was for bringing her such pleasure.  

A groan escaped him as he felt his own climax nearing.  She had done something to him, had messed him up, but he wasn't altogether disturbed by that.  "Ah, Shel," he moaned.  "Oh, my Shel."

She smacked his ass again, digging her nails in for good measure, whimpering, pleading almost, and did something totally unexpected.  Even though she wasn't as experienced as most of his partners, she began thrusting her hips against him, as if she'd been his lover for years.  She seemed to have learned his body, memorized it almost.  He closed his eyes and let go with his own cry.  He had never cried out in his life, but with her, he could not resist.  As his body worked through his orgasm, he rammed in her once, twice, three times, giving her a match per match orgasm with each savage thrust.  

"Shel, oh my Shel, what have you done to me," he whispered before collapsing on top of her.        

*  *  *

Frank and Loralei 

It was nearly eleven in the morning when Donovan and Loralei entered the house.  He wanted to get Loralei settled in a little before he picked up the baby.  The hospital had kept her overnight for observation, but there were no injuries, no damage.  He wanted her to go bed immediately.  She hadn't slept much last night, and she had to be exhausted.  He followed her upstairs and watched like a patrolling sergeant as she tossed her dirty clothing into the hamper.  When she turned toward her husband, she stared at him comically.

"Frank, would you stop?  I'm fine, the baby is fine, and you don't need to stand over me."

He approached her and drew her into his embrace.  "I can't stop thinking that you could have gotten killed tonight.  What you did was brave, baby, but goddamn, I was scared shitless."

"You weren't the only one, Mister."  She drew away for a moment.  "I'm not changing the subject, but I think I owe you an apology."

Cocking his eyebrow, he gazed at her curiously.  "An apology?  For what?"

"For thinking you would cheat on me."  She sighed, feeling the onset of hormone driven tears.  "Fuck it.  This hormone shit is the only thing I hate about being pregnant.  I love you, Frank, and I can't believe I mistrusted you so."

"Hey," he whispered, quieting her with a soft kiss.  "I think we need to work on our communication just a bit," he said with a smile.

"I think you're right.  Marriage counseling?"

He laughed and shook his head.  "I don't think it's to that point, LD.  I suppose we both still have a lot to learn about each other, and a lot to discover.  I don't ever want to lose that ability I have to read you, to know you.  I hope you feel the same.  As I told you before, I've never had anything like what we have, not with anyone.  When I told you that, I meant every word.  Regardless of who I've known, slept with, dated, or whatever, there's just no one else for me but you.  I can understand how you would feel threatened by that bitch, just as I would feel threatened by someone from your past.  I don't want to lose touch, and this was the second time for us."

She nodded.  "I know, and it was equally scary, but my insecurity played a role, I'm sure.  I go nuts when I'm pregnant, paranoid.  I just hate it that I doubted you after what we've gone through together."

He kissed her again and drew her against him once more.  "Baby, stop apologizing.  What's written can be erased.  The past is the past.  Every now and then, some ghost, some evil entity will show up, and it might play hell with us both, but nothing…_nothing_ will ever stop me from loving you, Rachel, and-"  His hand drifted down to her abdomen.  "The twins," he said with a mischievous smirk.

"Nope," she said, shaking her head.  "No twins in here.  They're going to skip you and hit your brother."

"And speaking of my brother.  I can safely assume he worked things out with Kara?"

She nodded.  "Yup, I should say so.  Watching them grosses me out, though.  They're so…mushy."

"We're not?"

She shrugged.  "Maybe a little.  I guess I _did_ manage to match someone up, huh?"

He shook his head and smiled.  "You've found your new career, Mrs. Donovan."  He kissed her forehead before moving back.  "Take a nap.  I need to retrieve the kid before she thinks we abandoned her."

She took hold of his hand.  "Wait a second."

Donovan stopped and turned toward her.  "What is it, LD?"

"Can I have five minutes of your time," she asked solemnly.

"Okay," he said.  "What is it?"

She couldn't help but smile at his serious expression.  He was such a worrier.  She had never known a man who worried as much as he.  "Make love to me."

"For five minutes," he asked with a laugh.

She stepped easily into his arms and nuzzled his throat.  "Or ten or fifteen or twenty or…"

*  *  *

Such intense beginnings lead to equally intense endings.  Love for love.  Life for life.

Finis 


End file.
